Earth's Children
by Luna Sealeaf
Summary: Harpers' Parents tell their tale of life and love in Post-Commonwealth Earth.
1. Episode One

** Earth's Children**  
  
Summary: The parents of Harper tell their tale of life and love in Post-Commonwealth Earth.  
  
Author: Luna Sealeaf  
  
Rating: PG  
  
First Episode  
  
"Life is a journey, and love is what makes that journey worthwhile,"  
-Unknown  
  
When I first learned that our Nietzschean overlords were sending me, as well as several hundred other Irish natives, to some far away land, I was terrified.  
  
It all began one night when guards stormed into the small house surrounded by gentle hills that I shared with my parents, sister Orla, and older brother Liam.  
  
I remember waking up to my mother's scream, which was quickly cut off. No sooner had I opened my eyes then a strong hand grabbed me by the neck and threw me to the floor.  
  
"Evan!" I heard Orla scream behind me before she too was dragged from the bed. With utter confusion I looked around, trying to figure out what was going on. My mother lay on the floor either unconscious –or dead. My father had tried to fight off the Nietzscheans and his lifeless eyes stared up at me as I huddled with Orla on the rough wooden floor. Before I could register what the scene meant, Liam was thrown from the trapdoor leading to the attic where he slept. Two more Nietzscheans –three were already surrounding me and Orla- climbed down the ladder following him. Things had happened so fast that I believe I was in shock.  
  
Too my relief Liam quickly got to his feet, though he was then shoved to the floor next to me.  
  
"Liam, what's happening?" Orla asked our older brother. Her words were stopped short by a hard cuff to her head from a guard standing next to her. Hearing her cry out, seeing blood trickle down her neck, I was about to lunge myself at the Uber in a fury and only Liam's sudden and firm grip on my shoulders kept me from ripping out the heart of that Nietzschean.  
  
Probably it saved my life as well.  
  
"Is this all of them?" one of them asked. I was too busy making sure Orla wasn't badly hurt to care about what they were saying.  
  
"Looks like it. Come on, let's load them up." and then my hands were torn away from my beloved twin sister; my arms pulled behind me as I was jerked to my feet. Next I was half-dragged, half-carried outside. In front of our home was one of those large, metal transport vehicles the Ubers use to carry supplies in. The back door was swung open and first me, then Orla, and then Liam were practically thrown into the cargo hold. As it was already filled with other people the closest I could get to my remaining family was a solid grip on Liam's hand, Orla holding onto his other one.  
  
There were no windows of course, only a few cracks that let in air, and total darkness broken by the sounds of people crying and talking softly. Terrified, and filled with a deep hatred for the Nietzscheans, I sat there, pressed on all sides by strangers, as the vehicle moved swiftly on the road.  
  
Never again would I, my sister, or my brother ever see our homeland again. We would never see our parents; our aunts and uncles, cousins, or friends, for the rest of our lives. We were ripped from our familiar world and thrown into the brutal unknown.  
  
I had just turned eighteen.  
  
How long we were stuck in that crowded supply transport, I don't know. After a few hours my muscles began to cramp painfully. I was hot and thirsty; I felt badly for anyone there who was claustrophobic. The only thing worse than the physical discomfort was the looming terror of not knowing where we were going or why we had been taken from our homes in the first place. It was obvious that we weren't simply going to be killed. Nietzscheans didn't go to this much trouble merely to kill a bunch of kludges.  
  
Unless we were to be used as blood sport for their amusement.  
  
These thoughts and equally dark ones ran through my head as I shook with fear and rage. And then, finally, we came to a stop. Murmurs grew as nothing happened. Liam squeezed my hand for comfort and I was both grateful for it and resentful that he felt me such a child as to need his reassurance.  
  
Suddenly the door was thrown open causing several people who had been pressed up against it to nearly fall off. Six or seven Nietzscheans –I couldn't see very well- carrying large guns and wearing red and black uniforms came into view.  
  
"Everyone, get out!" one of them barked at us. Two lines had been formed on either side of the doorway so we couldn't try and escape. Not that many of us could have; blinking from the bright sunlight and trying to move our cramped limbs made it difficult to even walk. Lack of food and water had also left many feeling weak, including me.  
  
Liam and Orla were moved ahead of me as we began to slowly file out. I became panicked as I was pushed towards the back by the swarm of people moving forwards and I lost sight of my siblings' bright golden hair, the one thing we all had in common.  
  
My struggle to get out quickly succeeded and I breathed a sigh of thankfulness when I caught sight of Liam's broad shoulders. Other than the Nietzscheans of course, as well as the occasional Magog attack, the bane of my existence was that my sister and I were a full head shorter than Liam and our father, inheriting our mother's height instead. Despite my size, or perhaps because of it, I had always had a fierce temper. My parents must have seen this as soon as I was born, for my name, "Evan" apparently meant 'young warrior'.  
  
And the name served me well as I pushed past people in order to reach my family. Clutching Orla's hand tightly as soon as I had gotten close enough, she turned and gave me a brave smile, but she couldn't keep the fear from her pretty green eyes.  
  
I didn't have time to try and offer her comfort; stopping me in my tracks was a sight I had never before seen in my life: the ocean.  
  
It was a shade darker than the color of my eyes, and larger than I thought it possible for anything to be. The water stretched for as far as my eyes could make out. I was so stunned at the spectacle that I barely felt the gun shoved against my back or heard the gruff 'Move along!' that followed it. But Orla quickly pulled me forward. It was then that I noticed the huge barge, no, ship, that was anchored in the water. A wooden plank was attached to the large metal beast. My stomach churned with fear and a bizarre sense of excitement as we began climbing up the ramp.  
  
Again we were grouped into close quarters, somewhere under the hull, I believe, but not before we saw that hundreds of others were already 'stored' on the ship. The silence was heavy with tension among our crowd. The one question in everyone's eyes matched my own.  
  
Where were we going?  
  
Much later, after the ship had started to move (or I assumed since the sound of engines could be heard) Liam, Orla, and I had found a corner to lie down in. Rations had been passed among us; water jugs to be shared and chunks of bread. The generosity of our captors didn't surprise me.  
  
I was lying on my side, back against the wall; Orla and Liam had fallen asleep, Orla clutching my hands, when I learned, by accident, where we were being taken.  
  
Seeing as how we were the last load of humans, our quarters must have been next to a room for Nietzscheans (no doubt they had much better furnishings). I was starting to fall asleep when I heard loud voices on the other side of the wall begin to talk. Careful not to wake Orla, I edged closer to the wall, trying to hear better.  
  
"So how long then, until we reach Boston?" a deep voice asked. Excited, I tried to recall where Boston was. Although my mother and father had taught us a lot, geography had never been my strongpoint. Still, I was pretty sure it was somewhere in America.  
  
"A couple of hours at most." Came the answer. A different voice asked,  
  
"Why do they need all these kludges? I thought Boston was one of the best established refugee camps." Then there was harsh laughter, before the deep voiced Nietzschean said,  
  
"That just shows how pathetic your genes are Warren, if they don't even talk about the situation in front of you!" there were some angry words that I couldn't make out before one of them said in a loud voice,  
  
"After the Magog attack two summers ago, there's been a famine, and a few uprisings." Someone spit audibly and cut in,  
  
"The ungrateful little kludges!" to my furious, though not surprised, anger there were loud words said in agreement before the one explaining could continue.  
  
"Anyway, the Lords are short on workers over there, hence the rabble we dragged from that backwater area. No one'll miss them, there's only a few minor Lords over there." The talk continued, but I didn't listen. I felt my teeth grind in anger at they're words: "No one'll miss them," What of our mother –assuming she still lived- what of our neighbors, friends I had known all my life and would likely never see again. I suddenly felt stronger as I realized that the Ubers were wrong; we would be missed, and most importantly, we would not be forgotten.  
  
Then, despite all of my confusing thoughts, I slowly fell into a dreamless sleep. It felt like only a few minutes later when I woke to Orla's soft whisper.  
  
"Wake up Evan! We're...here" I could hear the hesitation in the last word, as she wasn't sure where 'here' was.  
  
"Boston...?" I muttered, sitting up. Orla gave me a confused look and I started to explain when the door was unlocked and slid open. Two Nietzscheans, with guns, as usual, gave sharp orders to get us moving. Feeling very much like chattel, I shuffled through the door along with everyone else.  
  
We were lead to another long ramp leading to shore and told to disembark. For the most part things went smoothly and relatively quickly, until several people started jumping off the plank into the water in an effort to escape. They were shot by the numerous guards on the ship as well as the guards waiting for us on the ground.  
  
Bitterly I wondered if that wasn't a better fate than the one awaiting us. Liam caught my eye and seemed to know my thoughts from the scowl on my face, for he gave a slight shake of his head. Glaring back at him defiantly, neither of us noticed the girl in front of him slip off the wooden platform, giving a sharp cry. Before I had time to react Liam had turned and grabbed the girl's arm, pulling her up from the edge and helping her to continue walking down. Obviously shaken by her near death experience, the red haired young woman clung to my brother, even after we reached land.  
  
As we stood in the crowd waiting for whatever was going to happen next, Liam turned to the girl and asked kindly,  
  
"What's your name, love?" Orla laid a gentle hand on her arm, and the girl's dark, tear-filled eyes took the three of us in.  
  
"Lughna," she said softly. I was more interested in what the Ubers had planned for us, but I heard Liam ask,  
  
"Where's your family Lughna?"  
  
"They're all dead." She sounded slightly hysterical and I spared her another glance. Seeing how scared she was, I tried to give a comforting smile, but she turned and buried herself in Liam's arms.  
  
"Well then, ye'll just stay with us Lughna and we'll take care of you." He gently lifted her chin with one hand and smiled. Feeling anxious and short-tempered, not to mention having to go to the bathroom like hell, I snapped in reply,  
  
"If we can even take care of ourselves, that is!"  
  
"Evan, be quiet!" Orla hissed, her hand digging into my arm. Not looking at her, I pretended to scan the crowd and didn't say anything else. My bad manners were quickly forgotten as the crowd started moving again. I felt a little more reassured after learning what I had last night, and I passed the information onto the others.  
  
The march to Boston was long, slow, and extremely boring. We were given only one break, during which more rations were passed out and I had the chance to relieve myself.  
  
By the time we reached the 'refugee' camp it was night. My feet felt more or less like blocks of stone. I wondered why they had made us walk when it would have been so much easier, for them as well as us, to use another cargo transporter. Later it occurred to me that this way we were much too tired to even thinking of fighting back or disobeying their orders.  
  
Our people, escorted by many Nietzschean guards, walked through the streets of middling Nietzschean homes: those belonging to low-ranking warriors and even lesser soldiers.  
  
Ireland had been a bit more remote compared to Britain and America, and while we had had our own share of Nietzscheans, we had never lived surrounded by them either. A few miles later, we stopped in front of large stone walls. A gate leading into it was heavily guarded, but opened as we trudged inside. The line was painstakingly slow and, much to our surprise, we were allowed to sit and rest our feet, so long as we didn't slow the line when it moved.  
  
The moon was high overhead by the time we reached the gate and we learned why the line was moving so slowly. Every single person had to be registered. Several Nietzscheans sat at blinking devices, typing on them as the person answered questions, then ripping off a piece of stiff paper from the device, and handing it to them. Liam went first; they asked for his full name.  
  
"Liam Colin Harper." They collected a few hairs for DNA records while asking other questions. Recording his thumbprint, handing him the piece of paper, they then moved him forward. I was next, then Orla. Lughna was behind us and gave her name as Lughna Rylee Harper. Probably Liam had told her to use our last name, which I found vaguely amusing, as well as a little annoying. It also occurred to me that neither I nor Orla had middle names. Probably as twins, our parents had been a bit too overwhelmed to think of fitting middle names.  
  
As we passed through the gate I noticed that no other Nietzscheans awaited us on the other side. The four of us walked until we were far away from the crowd. Making sure we were all here, Liam glanced down at his card and frowned. Having barely noticed the paper shoved into my hands, I looked at it as well.  
  
Evan Harper  
  
Age: 18 years Sex: Male  
  
Height: 5'6" Hair: Yellow  
  
Eyes: Blue Work Station: Factory N-15B (Requested)  
  
_ **Property of Drago-Kazov Pride**  
  
_ With a cry of rage I crumpled the paper and threw it to the ground.  
  
"I am no one's _property_!" I yelled loudly, gritting my teeth and clenching my fists until I felt my nails cut into my palm. Orla was looking at me compassionately, Lughna just stared, and Liam calmly bent down, picked up the paper, and smoothed it between his hands.  
  
"Of course you're not, little brother." The words were so calm and matter-of-fact that I relaxed almost involuntarily as Liam continued.  
  
"None of us are. But you'll want to keep this paper. If you don't show up for work they'll come looking for you, no doubt. And I don't think that it would be a pleasant visit." He handed the paper to me and I nodded, calm once again. Looking back over the paper I scowled.  
  
"My hair is not _yellow_! It's gold!"  
  
The others, even Lughna, laughed as I swore at those 'color blind bastards'.  
  
That night was one of the longest in my memory. There we were, surrounded by dilapidated buildings and filthy streets, and not a clue as to what we should do.  
  
Other newcomers also began milling around, many filing into empty buildings. At last the four of us claimed a room and fell asleep on the floor. I thought my journey was finally over, but I was wrong.  
  
The next day we compared cards and were surprised, as well as pleased, to see that we were all stationed at the same factory. Not knowing what else to do, we returned to the gate entrance where Liam humbly asked one of the guards for help in finding out where we should go. Liam has always been good at not offending people. The guard gave him one disgusted look before grabbing the paper out of his hands, looking over it, and then thrusting it back at him, nearly scraping Liam's arm off with his bone blades.  
  
"You're not permanent camp residents. There's a transport to the factory's village. It'll be here in an hour." Thanking him profusely, and giving me a glare that wiped the sneer on my face for the Ubers off, we walked away quickly.  
  
While we waited for the transport, Liam and Lughna talked while Orla and I went to try and find something to eat. Unfortunately we had no luck.  
  
Roughly an hour later a transport vehicle, smaller than the one we'd been forced onto in Ireland, appeared. Some type of sound system must have been rigged throughout the human ghetto, because we could hear orders given for people 'stationed at factories N-10A through N-25D report to the front gate'.  
  
As some of the first people there we were able to settle inside the vehicle relatively comfortably, and it wasn't as crowded as our previous trip had been.  
  
A few hours later we were 'unloaded' in front of more walls, this time made of wood, and another guarded gate. The area was different thought; apart from a few large buildings in the distance, there was only empty land. At the sight of green, or at least yellow, fields of grass and a thin forest behind us, many in the crowd burst into tears. This land was so different from our beloved country, and I felt a fierce longing for the lush green hills I'd grown up in.  
  
This line moved faster than last nights'; it was shorter and all we had to do was show our papers to the guards.  
  
And thus I took my first steps into my new home, not knowing that it was here I would meet the great love of my life.  
  
Author's Note: For those of you who have read the 'Life of a Kludge' volumes, this is in no way connected to them. After watching Season Two I realized how many mistakes I'd made in Harper's life story, and got a little depressed. As I was pondering what to do, it occurred to me that his parents might have had a great love story, and that maybe it should be told. So here is the first part, told through the eyes of his father, as I imagine him to have been like. The next 'episode' will be from his mother's point of view, each episode afterwards alternating. Thanks for reading, and I beg you to let me know what you think! Thanks,  
Luna Sealeaf 


	2. Episode Two

Earth's Children  
  
Summary: The parents of Harper tell their tale of life and love in Post-Commonwealth Earth.  
  
Author: Luna Sealeaf  
  
Rating: PG  
  
Second Episode  
  
"I close my eyes, only for a moment and the moment's gone.  
All my dreams pass before my eyes in curiosity.  
Dust in the wind.  
All they are is dust in the wind...  
All we are is dust in the wind.  
  
-Lyrics to ancient Earth song  
  
When the group of new Irish workers arrived in our small town of Dunwich, I was eighteen going on nineteen. I think. After my parents were killed when I was ten I'd been working too hard to pay attention to things as inconsequential as time.  
  
My earliest memory is that of work. As slaves we were put to use as soon as we could walk on our own. When I was a little girl I'd help my parents pick the food we'd grown, both for the villagers and the resident Nietzscheans. To this day I can remember my mother scolding me for taking a bite of one of the best looking vegetables.  
  
"Josephine! The best ones are for the Lord and his family! We eat the little ones, see?" and she held up a scrawnier version of what I'd just eaten; it was decidedly less appetizing.  
  
"But that's no fair!" I had whined. Then my mom slapped me; not very hard, but enough to get my attention.  
  
"Never, ever, question the Lord or his people, do you understand me Josephine? There's no point. Nothing will be gained from it." Although I had been about to cry because she'd hit me, the stern look on her worn and tired face startled me into silence.  
  
And I never did question any of the Nietzscheans' orders. After my brother's fifth birthday, when I was seven, mom, perhaps sensing my rebellious streak, took me aside and told me firmly that any trouble I caused would hurt Devin. If I wanted to be a good big sister and protect my little brother, then I'd have to behave myself. Always.  
  
So, I tamed the fire in my personality that had just begun to grow. Instead of a rambunctious little seven year old, I was quiet, obedient; the perfect kludge. For three years I lived under the belief that if I behaved and was good, my family and I would be safe, left to live in peace.  
  
Then I turned ten. One day I came home to our small hut on the outskirt of the village; I'd been running errands, or some such thing. I came in from the back, and when I heard Nietzschean voices I hid, as I'd been taught to do all my life. While I stayed out of sight, I found a spot where I could see what was happening in the other room. What I saw there would haunt me for the rest of my life.  
  
Two Nietzscheans stood between my parents; one was beating my dad, the other was raping my mom. Little girl that I was, I nearly screamed; but then my mother turned her head towards me, eyes wide with pain and terror. So I bit my lip until it bleed and watched in silence.  
  
Eventually my father collapsed to the floor in a bloody heap, and when the two Nietzscheans had finished with my mother, they left. Crying, Mom crawled to my dad's body. I couldn't see what she was doing very well, but a moment later her scream filled the hut and I fell in a dead faint. That one moment of weakness was what killed her: when I regained consciousness enough to remember what I'd seen, I ran from my hiding place, intending to seek comfort from my mom.  
  
Instead I took the bloody knife from her lifeless hand, calmly washed it off, and went to ask a neighbor for help burying their bodies.  
  
When Devin returned I gave him a tight hug and explained that Mommy and Daddy had gone away, and would not be coming back.  
  
I didn't tell him what happened until he was fourteen years old. Since then I've assumed responsibility for him, as well as myself. We each took the place of one of our parents as far as work went; Devin went to the factory instead of dad, and I worked in the Lord's household, mostly I just did cleaning and menial chores. In any case, they weren't terrible as some jobs, and we were at least able to continue living in our home together.  
  
Still, much as I loved my brother, we were two very different individuals. This was clear on the day the foreign workers arrived. Typical of Devin, he wanted to go and greet them, help them settle into life in Dunwich.  
  
"Come on Joe! It's not their fault they're here! We can at least try to make them feel welcome," I laughed sharply at his pleading look.  
  
"First of all, don't call me 'Joe'. And see, the thing is, they're not welcome here. Newbies always cause a stir, which attracts attention, and –"  
  
"Attention attracts trouble. I know sis," Devin instantly grew sober, and a blush rose on his cheeks.  
  
"Besides, maybe there'll be some pretty Scottish-"  
  
"Irish," I automatically corrected, and after rolling his eyes he continued.  
  
"Maybe some pretty Irish girl will attract attention away from you." He looked away as I suddenly became very still. In a soft voice, I chided him gently.  
  
"Devin, it's wrong to wish one's trouble on someone else." He hung his head, looking, despite our solemn conversation, much younger than his sixteen-or-so years.  
  
"I know, I know. It's just that, I worry for you. I can't stand how they look at you." The word 'they' was said with such vehemence that I walked over to him and held his hands loosely in mine, trying to choose exactly the right words.  
  
It was true that in the past few years I had grown beautiful. I don't say this to be vain; it was simply the truth. With long dark hair, equally dark eyes, a fine facial structure, I couldn't help but call attention to myself. Devin had the same features, and many girls in the village were half in love with him. Yet I was looked on with pity rather than envy; considering where I worked, neither beauty nor the attention it brought were welcome. It was a common fact that Nietzschean women often supplied any genetically deficient sons with pretty human girls, since they weren't allowed to marry a female Nietzschean.  
  
Still, I actually feared more for Devin than myself. Apart from my parents, I had watched my two older sisters killed when Magog attacked; though I was quite young at the time, as well as numerous friends succumb to disease or starvation. Not to mention several beatings I had myself earned. Basically, I could handle anything that happened to me. I could deal with it. But Devin...if he got mad at the Nietzscheans, as he did when they stared and made lewd comments towards me, they would consider it great fun to play with and kill him, the same thing they'd done to our dad.  
  
This constant worry over Devin was one of the reasons I had refrained from making other close friends. It was hard enough trying to protect one person, especially one like my brother whose natural personality constantly got him into trouble. Anymore such cares and my nerves would have been stretched way too tautly.  
  
"Look, if it means that much to you, go greet them after work. We don't have anything better to do." A grin, along with dimples, split his face and he kissed me on the cheek excitedly.  
  
"Thanks sis!"  
  
"But don't you dare take them any of our food!" I called after him as he grabbed the midday meal I'd prepared for him and ran out the door, giving a quick wave goodbye. Knowing he wouldn't listen, I gave an exasperated sight and threw my hands up in the air. A gesture I had often watched my mother use when she was alive. But a smile crept onto my face nonetheless; despite his antics, Devin was the only one who could make me smile.  
  
Grabbing my favorite, and only, shawl –it had once belonged to Mom- I started down the path to my own job.  
  
My day didn't end until after sunset and I clutched the warm material around my thin dress tightly to fight off the chill. I had just reached the worst part of my journey home, dark walls on one side, dark open land on the other, when it happened. Something moved in the darkness. I stopped walking, trying to looking around, then cried out when I felt a hand on my shoulder. Without hesitation I turned and kicked the person in the stomach with all my power before turning to run.  
  
"OW! Holy Mother of Earth! Ow!" Confused, I turned around again. It certainly didn't sound like a Nietzschean, but none of the villagers would have snuck up on me like that. Still wary, I stayed a few steps away and called out,  
  
"Who are you?" The figure slowly stood up, clutching their stomach with one hand, the other pressed against the wall for support. The moon was covered by a cloud and there wasn't enough light to make out their features. Still, there was no way I could have hurt an Uber that much. Unless this was a trick?  
  
"I'm –ow!-Evan, Evan Harper." The words were pronounced strangely, and I took a step closer, despite myself. In front of me stood a man, albeit a short one; no taller than I was, and as the clouds passed over the moon, I could see that he had bright blonde hair cut to his temple. His clothes were also strange, and he smelled as though he could use a bath. Altogether it took me about a minute to realize who this was.  
  
"You're one of those newcomers," even I thought I said the words accusingly.  
  
"And?" he asked angrily. Finally lifting his head, the man-Evan?- looked at me, about to say something else, but fell silent. His open- mouthed gaping irritated me.  
  
"And," I snapped, fists planted on my hips, "What in the hell were you trying to do? You don't just go up to a stranger in the middle of the night and grab her by the shoulder! What did you expect to happen?" I could feel my face flush with anger, but now he too looked annoyed, as though he had any right to be! But then I noticed how young he looked; he might have been no older than Devin, and boys at that age always took offence easily.  
  
"Look, I'm sorry, alright? I didn't mean to frighten you-"  
  
"Trust me, I'd never be scared of you," I snorted.  
  
"Oh yeah? Well that's not how it looked to me." I began to lift my foot, and he quickly raised one hand and took a step back. Crossing my arms and raising my eyebrows at him, he continued hastily.  
  
"Anyway, I'm sorry! I just wanted some help, because I'm lost. I got separated from my brother and sister when we went to try and get something to eat. I'd never hurt a girl." Strangely enough, I believed him, though I would have bet my only pair of shoes that by 'try and get something to eat' he meant they were stealing.  
  
"Fine. I'll take you back to the center of the village, but that's it. You've already wasted enough of my night." Without waiting for an answer I turned away from the direction leading back home and started walking.  
  
For a moment there was silence, and I couldn't suppress a smile at the thought of him staring at me in bewilderment –and pain. Maybe I shouldn't have kicked him so hard...then again; he should have called out before grabbing my shoulder.  
  
To my satisfaction I heard hurried footsteps a moment later, and then he was walking next to me. We were both silent for a few minutes as we walked, and then-  
  
"So, d'you got a name?" he wanted a name did he? As if he deserved to know my name! I considered lying, but in the end I used my best weapon: silence.  
  
"Ok...so, er what's this place like, anyhow?" Still I said nothing. We turned left, the center of the village almost visible. I was sure that I had shut that Evett, or Euan, or whatever his name was, up, but I was wrong.  
  
"Fine; you don't want to talk. I'll supply both ends of the conversation." Looking at him sideways I saw that he'd stuck his hands in his pockets and was in much too cheerful a mood for someone I had just kicked.  
  
"Now then, I'll just answer both my questions. Uh, let's see..." his voice trailed off, then resumed in a much higher pitched voice. "'A pleasure to meet you Evan, my name is..." I could almost feel him glance at me, but I stoically kept my face forward, telling myself that if I just ignored him, he'd stop. He didn't.  
  
"'My name is Fiona. And may I add that you are a most handsome young man'..." I snorted, the light wasn't very good, but I seriously doubted he was handsome. And what kind of a name was 'Fiona'?  
  
"Why, thank you Fiona; the pleasure's all mine. So tell me, what brings you out this time of night? 'Oh, I was just visiting my sweetheart- "Through this entire conversation he changed his voice from what he might call 'normal' to a 'girl' pitched voice. For the most part I found it irritating, but the last sentence really irked me. Before he could continue I turned and shoved my hands against his chest. He lost his balance and sprawled onto the ground. Standing over him, I said in a low voice,  
  
"What is wrong with you? Do you try to annoy people? I was doing you a favor. So can you please just shut up?!" Instead of cowering, like most sane people I knew would have done, he just grinned up at me –a most infuriating expression, I should add.  
  
"Guess that means you're single, eh?"  
  
"Why -you annoying little!" I'm not sure why I didn't just turn and walk away. But I can't remember anyone being able to get underneath my skin in such a short amount of time. However, I didn't walk away. I raised my foot to give him another hard kick –no one ever accused me of being a pacifist- but before I could he kicked at my other leg and I fell forward.  
  
"Bastard!" I yelled, trying to get up. I'd landed on top of him and was trying to claw at his face, but he caught my wrists. And then, still smiling, he absolutely signed his death warrant: He kissed me. I was so stunned that I froze, completely still. Luckily my senses quickly returned to me and I wrenched my wrists free, slapped him as hard as I could in that position, and stood up, going over all the ways in my head that I could kill him without getting caught.  
  
"I –I'm sorry." Suddenly he was getting to his feet, and in the dim moonlight I could see that he looked rather shocked himself.  
  
"That was wrong of me. It's just that, well, it's been a rough couple of days. Let me explain.." his eyes looked at me pleadingly, but I'd had more than enough of this.  
  
"I could care less about your life story," shaking with anger, I pointed straight ahead of us. "Keep going that way and you should find your friends, assuming you weren't lying about all that." Wanting to say more, but not knowing what I wanted to say, I simply turned and stalked off towards home.  
  
I wouldn't realize until morning that I'd forgotten my shawl, which had slipped off when he tripped me.  
  
My thoughts were completely scattered as I made my way home. Inside Devin was sitting at the small dinner table, waiting up for me as he always does. Seeing the look on my face he quickly stood up and asked what was wrong. I thought about telling him what had happened, but then changed my mind, explaining that I was only tired.  
  
I went through the motions of preparing for bed, the whole while Devin prattling on about some Irish babe.  
  
"I'm telling you sis, she was gorgeous. Long blonde curls, the brightest green eyes you've ever seen! And her voice...!"  
  
I smiled, nodded, and made noncommittal sounds, but my thoughts were still miles away. At last I told him we should go to bed.  
  
"You're right; I told her I'd see her again tomorrow, so I don't want to be exhausted,"  
  
I didn't answer; instead I blew out the lamp and settled into my bed. Next to me, Devin lay on the mat on the floor, already fast asleep. But I stayed awake for some time.  
  
That was not how I'd imagined my first kiss.  
  
Author's Note: Wow, can't you just tell there's some intense attraction going on there? Let me just say that when I first started writing this chapter, that was not how I imagined their meeting to be. Actually, I'd forgotten that Seamus grew up in Dunwich, and I had been going to have her save him from something in the ghetto. You know, dark alleyway, she's in the shadows and pulls him to safety...but instead their fight scene came about. Well, next time we'll see what Evan thought of the whole encounter. Anyway, thanks for reading! Hope you enjoyed it!  
-Luna Sealeaf 


	3. Episode Three

Earth's Children  
  
Summary: The parents of Harper tell their tale of life and love in Post-Commonwealth Earth.  
  
Author: Luna Sealeaf  
  
Rating: PG  
  
"If True Love cannot survive the Long Night then, why, nothing can!"  
  
-Serybl Nexrom  
  
Romantic Poet  
  
Episode Three  
  
I must have stood there, perfectly still, for at least five minutes, just watching her walk away.  
  
Why had I done such a stupid thing? Part of me couldn't understand all of the complex emotions coursing through my mind. I just wasn't equipped to handle so many life-changing events in such a short period of time. Never in my life had I acted so boldly with a girl –woman, I corrected myself. Young as she had looked, even then I could tell that she was no simple girl.  
  
Well, no matter how beautiful she might be, I had surely ruined any chance I had of ever seeing her again. I didn't know her name, or where she lived, or even where she worked. Her obvious disgust for me wasn't so much of an obstacle – I had no doubt that I could easily win her over- but with the current state of emotions between us, she wasn't likely to seek me out on her own. It looked like I was going to have to forget about her and resign myself to possibly never seeing her again in my life.  
  
That's when I felt something under my foot. It was a piece of cloth, like some sort of wrap.  
  
I stared at it blankly for a second before my tired brain suddenly grasped what I was looking at.  
  
It was hers!  
  
Filled with glee I picked up the cloth and ran my hands against the material.  
  
From that moment on I was mesmerized. I may not have realized it until a long time afterwards, but at that moment I was already in love with her. I wouldn't rest until I found her again.  
  
The fact that she might never want to see me again didn't once cross my mind, which was so filled with youthful pride.  
  
Speaking of rest, it was about time I rejoined Orla and Liam, or else they would surely begin to worry about me. Hopefully I'd be able to find them by going to the village square that she had directed me towards. The simple fact that she had been kind enough to leave me with directions, despite what I had done, served to increase my infatuation of her.  
  
Then I took my first step forward –and gasped with pain, clutching at my stomach and lower rib cage. What the -?! Oh, right; she had kicked me.  
  
No matter, that simply showed how strong she was; it did nothing to demean her in my eyes. So, limping and slightly bent over, I hobbled towards the village square.  
  
"My God Evan! What happened to you?" with those words Orla flung her arms around my neck. Sure enough, Liam, Lughna, and my sister had been waiting for me in the shadows of the center of town. Around us loomed the eerie dark shapes of huts and make-shift tents set up by our fellow newcomers.  
  
Orla let go of me long enough to turn a critical eye to my condition.  
  
"I'm in love," I said dreamily, a no-doubt foolish looking grin settling over my face. Judging by the looks on the other threes' faces, they couldn't have been more surprised at my words if I had announced I was growing another head.  
  
"More likely exhaustion has turned our brother's head," Liam suggested to Orla.  
  
"No, I'm serious, look!" I held out the shawl for them to inspect. Lughna stroked it reverently, eyes wide with admiration.  
  
"This must be really, really old!" she said softly. Orla nodded in mute agreement.  
  
"We can ogle over Evan's love token tomorrow. Right now we need to get some rest we can find out where we're supposed to work in the morning." That said, Liam and the girls set about doing practical things, such as using borrowed pieces of wood, rope, and cloth to set up our own tent for the night.  
  
Even I, despite my reluctance to deal with the real world, was dragged into helping.  
  
But I didn't want to think about serious matters such as food, or a place to live, or work. While the others discussed these things, I stared at the stars and ran my hands through the cloth. At last Liam ordered me to bed, hoping that sleep would help my addled brains. Although certain that I would never be able to fall asleep, the events of the past two days caught up with me and morning came too soon.  
  
Much to Liam's relief, my head had cleared during the night. Gone was the heady feeling I'd experienced since watching her retreating figure; my passion for finding her remained, but other thoughts entered my mind too. Nightmares of my father's lifeless eyes and my mother's still form brought my wits back to reality.  
  
While Liam and I questioned other factory workers on our jobs, Orla and Lughna prepared a small breakfast.  
  
"Hey, where'd you guys get the food?" I wondered out loud before devouring a potato straight from the fire. Liam didn't appear to hear my question, but Lughna glanced at Orla and giggled, which was strange enough, but then Orla leaned over the small fire and quickly placed more vegetables by the embers, thought not before I caught the faint blush on her cheeks.  
  
"A very nice young man came and welcomed us here. He gave us the food."  
  
Normally I could practically read Orla's thoughts before she had even formed them herself, but the strange emotion in her voice was completely foreign to me.  
  
"He said his name was Devin Lahey," she continued before falling silent.  
  
"Oh, that's nice." I said, not really caring all that much, merely grateful for the hot food.  
  
Soon we had to begin walking to the factories, along with large groups of villagers. We had a few miles to cover and the people seemed to use this time in order to talk and mingle with their neighbors. At first I tried to look for the young woman, but quickly gave up. There were simply too many people surrounding us. So for the most part people ignored us, and I walked beside Orla in silence, which was rudely interrupted a few minutes later.  
  
"Orla! Orla, hi!" Turning my head I saw a dark youth squeeze through the crowd in order to reach my sister.  
  
"Good morning Devin," Orla replied, smiling yet turning her eyes towards the ground. Losing interest as they began to talk, I turned my attention to the villagers, curious about these strange people.  
  
As far as physical features went there was a large variety among them, something I wasn't as used to, having grown up in an almost secluded area. The only thing that truly set us newcomers apart was our clothing, and our accents. Our clothes were made of a rougher material and cut differently. Where Lughna and Orla had knee-length shirts with long sleeves and pants, most women here wore simple dresses of dull colors. Liam and I blended in a bit better; vests, shirts, and pants of all lengths were the general choice of clothing for the men.  
  
Becoming bored, and trying to take my mind off of my sore feet, I listened to Orla and Devin's conversation.  
  
"Devin Lahey; it certainly sounds like an Irish name, yet you speak strangely, no offense," Orla quickly added, glancing up at Devlin before returning her gaze to the ground. Devin only laughed in a good-natured way.  
  
"And you speak beautifully! But you're right about my name: my father's parents were from Ireland, I believe, and I was named for some great-uncle of his." He laughed again, eliciting a smile from Orla and I found myself warming to him despite myself.  
  
"Could you explain something else for me Devlin?"  
  
"Gladly, if I know the answer."  
  
"Well, people here have told us that they are not considered subjects to the Nietzscheans, if this is so, then why were we forced to come here?" as this was something I was curious about as well, I listened carefully for his reply. At first Devin was silent, but then at last began to answer her.  
  
"Every fifteen years or so, the Magog have attacked somewhere nearby. Our population is thinning, even as more workers are need for the fields and manufacturing plants, like the ones we work at. The nearby Lords requested that more workers be sent in –and so you were. It's not a bad life here though." He finished, perhaps trying to give some sense of comfort or relief to our situation. Orla smiled thinly and assured him that life didn't seem bad at all in Dunwich, but I knew by her troubled expression that she was remembering the night we'd been dragged from our home.  
  
Had it really only been three nights ago? The thought was both startling and a little frightening, but there was no time to dwell on it; we'd reached the factory we'd been assigned to work at.  
  
My first day of my job in this strange new world was...interesting. As the villagers had said, we were theoretically 'free citizens', or as free as any human could be on a planet ruled by Nietzscheans. However that didn't stop heavily armed Nietzscheans from patrolling our work unit and occasionally punishing someone they felt was working too slowly. Frankly, it was maddening; here we were, working, slaving, for the Ubers voluntarily and still being treated like dirt. Yet what could we do about it? If we fought, we'd die. It was as simple as that. There would always be more kludges to take our place: in short, I, my family, and all genetically un-engineered humans were expendable.  
  
Not that my anger was curbed any. I still longed to turn one of those blasters on the Nietzscheans and take as many out as I could before I was stopped. But I also valued my life; at that time in my life anyway.  
  
Besides, as I listened to my fellow workers talk, sometimes joining in a short conversation, I learned that daily life here was often significantly better than life as 'citizens' under direct rule of Nietzscheans, such as those people living in the refugee camps.  
  
While any human was basically a slave, or at least a potential one, to the Dragans, those that lived inside the camps had a much harder time living than even we did.  
  
The men and women gossiped about the constant sicknesses that always ran rampant throughout the close living quarters of the Human ghetto. Men, women, and even children would be pulled off the street at any random time and made into personal slaves to higher ranking Nietzscheans, or sold. Famine was also an almost constant problem; not to mention that every time the Drago-Kazov felt the need to reassert their authority and dampen our moral further they would raid a section of the human quarters, completely laying waste to it.  
  
All in all, my education about the state of the rest of the world was quickly growing. My parents had been fond of telling us stories about Old Earth, before the Commonwealth had fallen, but these new lessons would be more likely to help me survive this unforgiving New Earth.  
  
Work didn't last forever, thank whatever-Deity-still-lives! As the day ended we were each paid with some money as well as a week's ration of food. My mood was lifting rapidly and my thoughts soon dwelled upon my mysterious Lady of Love, who consequently hated me at the moment. It must be said; little would deter Evan Harper once I set my mind to something.  
  
Outside I joined Lughna, Liam, and Orla in fading light. To my curiosity, no one moved even after I arrived.  
  
"What are we waiting for?" I finally asked them.  
  
"Orla's boyfriend," Lughna said in a teasing manner.  
  
"He's not my boyfriend!" Orla denied hotly. I looked at Lughna with a puzzled expression at the playful mood she'd been in all day. I looked over her while she and Liam talked.  
  
The change in her was amazing. She and Orla had somehow obtained dresses like those of the village women and the color, a dark brown, complimented her complexion. Her face wasn't as deathly pale as it had been either; there was a faint touch of pink on her cheeks, and her dark brown eyes sparkled. I didn't understand what had caused this rapid change in her, but then I noticed how she looked at Liam, and it suddenly became clear; she was in love with him. Well, why wouldn't she be? Not only had he saved her life a few days ago, but he was tall and handsome, as well as strong. And Liam seemed to like her just as much. The thought of my serious older brother in a relationship with a girl was amusing, but my thoughts were soon once again filled with my mystery woman.  
  
"There you are Orla!" That guy –Devin- jogged up to us and smiled at Orla before shaking my hand, and then Liam's. We exchanged glances and I shrugged. Whatever.  
  
Actually, as I looked closer at Devin, he seemed familiar, but I couldn't for the life of me figure out why.  
  
It was a long walk home and the five of us chatted amicably. Devin wanted to know all about Ireland while we were curious about Dunwich, despite all that we had already learned.  
  
"There's not much to say," Devin insisted. For the most part, he was right. Even to us foreigners Dunwich was a fairly uninteresting place. I was impatient to begin my search and the walk home seemed to take forever. Although very tired I still raced into our tent and found the shawl –Orla had explained what it that that was the proper name for it- before realizing that I had no plan yet to help me find Her.  
  
While Devin helped Liam figure out what we'd need to build a more solid house, I pestered the girls for help until finally Lughna gave me a suggestion:  
  
"Take another look at the shawl; does it have anything to indicate who it belongs to? If it's as valuable as it seems they'd want to make it harder for someone to steal it and claim it belonged to them." While this made sense, I doubted I would find anything. Carefully looking over the length of the cloth in the evening light I was amazed to discover that Lughna was right. On the bottom right corner, in blue thread, was the letter 'J' , heavily encircled by embroidered flowers. A clue to Her name perhaps? Then Lughna, probably wanting more time with Liam's sole attention, suggested that I ask nearby villagers for help.  
  
"She's right Evan. Just make sure you ask for their name first so they can't trick you," Orla added, smiling at me fondly from her seat on the ground. I thanked them both excitedly and then was off, not caring that Liam would surely berate me for not helping with the building plans.  
  
I was no longer uneasy around these strangers whose home's we'd been forced to live among. I marched boldly up to the first person I saw: an elderly man –at least fifty- carrying two buckets of water down the main path that ran through the village. Seizing this opportunity I rushed forward and asked him if I could help carry the water. Eyeing me suspiciously for a moment, the man reluctantly nodded and passed the buckets to me, who nearly dropped them.  
  
This man was stronger than he looked; those buckets were heavy! I tried not to let my lack of strength show by plastering a smile on my face. The shawl was tucked around my waist and I pondered how to broach the question when the man suddenly turned and asked in a curious voice,  
  
"Hey! What're you doing with Miss Lahey's shawl? She couldn't 'ave given it to ya." So surprised was I at those words that I had to set the buckets down before I dropped them and spilled all the water.  
  
"Actually I was going to return it to her. Could you –could you tell me where she lives?" I was breathless with excitement, shifting my weight from foot to foot, and I could see that the man was debating whether or not to tell me.  
  
"I'm courting her, you see, or at least trying to, but I forgot to ask her where she lives." I stopped talking and could hear my heart pounding in my chest, while hoping he believed me. It wasn't really a lie, just a slight stretch of the truth.  
  
"Someone courtin' Miss Lahey? Now ain't that somethin'. Here I'd thought she'd scared away all the young fellas." He chuckled in a friendly manner and I relaxed somewhat, grinning as I replied,  
  
"Ah, well, I figure she's worth a few bruises," the man smiled kindly at me.  
  
"That she is boy, that she is." Before giving me directions to find her house.  
  
"But she won't be back from work for awhile!" I heard him call after me as I thanked him and started to run. Well, I at least knew part of her name: J. Lahey. Still running, I frowned slightly; that name sounded familiar. Where had I heard it before?  
  
As I left the main part of the village my cares quickly dissipated. The old man had said that she lived in the hut farthest away from the other ones. Not very clear directions, but I found it easily enough. The hut was in a small valley between two hills, giving one the feeling that it was the only inhabited place for miles.  
  
Whistling cheerfully, I sat in front of the door and waited.  
  
A long stretch of time passed before at last I saw a figure walking slowly down the small hill. Quickly I stood up, feeling nervous again. What if my charm and good looks weren't enough? Finally I couldn't stand to wait any longer.  
  
"Hello again!" I called out as she drew closer. She must not have noticed me until then, for she suddenly stopped walking and looked straight at me. Even in the dim light I could see the surprise across her face.  
  
"I came to return this," I held up the shawl and took a few steps towards her. She didn't move, but slowly her eyes went from my face to the shawl, and then back to my face.  
  
"Thanks," the word was said slowly and uncertainly as she reached for it. Before she could take it from my hand I held it away from her grasp, causing her eyes to narrow.  
  
"First you have to tell me your name. Your real name." I hadn't planned this, but I was afraid she'd take the shawl and order to me to leave. She seemed to struggle with her choices and I took a step back in case she decided to resort to violence. Again.  
  
"Fine!" she snapped at me. "My name is Josephine Rose Lahey. Happy? Now can I please have that back?" I stood there, confused, and she quickly snatched the shawl out of my hands.  
  
"Josephine? What kind of a name is that?" I blurted out before I could stop myself. Rose I'd heard before, but Josephine? "It sounds like an Uber name!" I said, again before I took the time to consider my words. But I was incredulous; of all the names I had fitted to my mystery woman, 'Josephine' wasn't even on the list.  
  
"For your information, the eldest daughter in my mother's family has always been named Josephine. See this?" she pointed out the embroidered initial, hard to make out in the darkness. "This was sewn by my great-grandmother. So I'm sorry you don't like the name, but I'm actually rather fond of it." She stopped suddenly and we both stood there awkwardly. Now what? I wondered. She, Josephine, put a hand to her head as though in pain and I immediately felt guilty. No wonder she disliked me so much; I just couldn't seem to stop being horrible to her. First the kiss, then her name.  
  
"Look, I don't think my brother's back yet, and I wouldn't mind some company right now, so would you like to come in and have some tea?" I couldn't believe my ears or my luck, but I wasn't about to lose my chance.  
  
"Sure, thanks,"  
  
"First you have to apologize to me. For last night," she folded her arms and stood there as I cleared my throat, suddenly embarrassed.  
  
"Josephine, I'm sorry for kissing you, and annoying, and all, last night. I promise it won't happen again."  
  
"Of course it won't. Now come on." She led me inside and went about lighting lamps and candles while I looked around her home curiously.  
  
"Do you like Red Root tea?"  
  
"I don't suppose you have any beer or whiskey?" I asked hopefully. Earlier that morning I'd started feeling poorly, and I assumed it was from lack of anything good to drink.  
  
"No, just tea. Sorry." Her voice was getting short, as though I'd already annoyed her.  
  
"Tea's fine." I hastily said. While she walked around I was putting some witty comments together in my head when she turned to say something. For the first time I was able to look at her in a fully lit place. It left me literally speechless, and I think I forgot to breathe as well. Nor did I notice that she was staring at me with a peculiar look in her eyes as well. If I hadn't already been in love with her before, I certainly was then. I couldn't explain what it was exactly that I found so captivating; she just had this dark, earthy quality to her which I found irresistible. In the back of my mind the words 'No wonder I kissed her!' rang through my head.  
  
Before either of us could say anything, footsteps and laughter made us turn to the door, which was swung open a moment later. I found myself shocked as first Devin, then Orla, walked inside. Then my poor brain suffered another shock that caused it to freeze; While Devin and I stared at each other in surprise, I noticed his arm was around Orla's waist.  
  
"What are you doing with my sister?!" We both exclaimed at the same time, and then fell silent as we glared at each other. Luckily women are more sensible that us men, at least when it comes to these kind of matters. With a gracious smile Josephine took a few steps forward.  
  
"Hello, I'm Josephine Lahey, Devin's older sister," she introduced herself, shaking Orla's hand politely.  
  
"Orla Harper, Evan's twin sister." They smiled at each other in an amused sort of way and I cast an annoyed look towards them.  
  
"Would you care for some tea Orla?"  
  
"Yes please, that'd be very nice." All this time Devin and I stood there, both confused. Why hadn't I realized all of this before? Orla had said his last name as Lahey, and besides, he looked just like his sister.  
  
"Devin, we're out of firewood, you and Evan can go get some and bring it in." Devin nodded shortly and jerked his head towards the door, meaning I should follow him outside. Still trying to figure out exactly what was happening, I followed him.  
  
Once outside he turned and looked me over. I did the same to him.  
  
"So, I take it you like Josephine?"  
  
"I take it you like Orla?" I countered. We were silent a moment. Then:  
  
"If you hurt her, I'll kill you."  
  
"Same here." I crossed my arms in a casual manner. Another moment of silence, and then Devin grinned and held out his hand, saying  
  
"You know, this could work to our advantage. I'll help you win Josephine and you help me win Orla." I hesitated, then quickly grinned as well and grasped his hand.  
  
"Tis a deal." I didn't add, as he showed me where the firewood was kept, that his job would be a lot harder than mine: Orla already liked Devin, but Josephine and I still had a long way to go.  
  
In the end, though of course I didn't know it at the time, it was going to be a very painful courtship, though shorter than I had first anticipated. Then again, what else is more romantic than a near death experience...? 


	4. Episode Four

Earth's Children

Summary: The parents of Harper tell their tale of life and love in Post-Commonwealth Earth.

Author: Luna Sealeaf

Rating: PG

Episode Four

Why did I invite him inside? _Why?_ What I said was true; I did want company, and he was the only person around. But I didn't even like him, so surely _no_ company was better than _bad_ company? Right?

If it hadn't been for my bad day at work, I would have told him to leave. As it was, I didn't want to be alone. The events that evening had shaken me so badly that I needed to have someone, _anyone_, around. And maybe...maybe a small part of me that I didn't want to acknowledge found his presence comforting. He just seemed so sure of himself; for some reason I felt safe around him. After the day I'd had, safety was what I was looking for.

It was lucky Devin and Orla came, however, otherwise I don't know what Evan and I would have talked about. While I was touched that he'd brought the shawl back, he didn't seem very good at conversations in general. Yet for some reason I didn't feel the same intense anger at him as I had the night before. Perhaps what had happened earlier had disturbed me more than I first thought.

Sitting around the small table, sipping tea with the Harpers and Devin, I found myself going over the events of my day...

Every morning I tried to dress as unflatteringly as possible. I only wore dresses of the dullest colors and of the stiffest, most shapeless styles. The idea was to attract as little attention as possible. Usually it worked; the females in the Nietzschean household ignored me, except to sometimes give an order, and the males rarely even glanced at me. But this morning, something happened. One of the Wives had ordered me to fetch water for her bath, and I hurried to follow her orders. The house was situated near a large lake and that was where we servants went to fetch water for bathing or cleaning. There were four of us altogether; each carrying buckets. I was the last one at the shore and the last to leave. The other girls had already started up the hill when a shape stepped out of the trees clustered by the water. I froze, seeing it was a Nietzschean. He had tanned skin and looked strong; then again, they're all strong.

Part of me wanted to run, but I also knew that it would do no good. So I stood there, clutching the buckets of water as he came closer and closer. Suddenly he was in front of me, and with one hand he reached out and touched my cheek. I stared down at the ground as his hand slid down from my face to my neck.

"Sir, I must follow my orders," I said softly, hoping he'd notice the buckets and realize that I was in a hurry. When he didn't say anything, I dared to look up. He seemed amused, and I felt frightened all over again.

"Go then. Perhaps we shall meet another time." After uttering those words, he turned and walked back through the trees, disappearing from sight. His words echoing in my head, I turned and made my way back up the hill. I made it through the rest of the day without any sign of fear or discomfort. When my work had ended and the sun began to set, my anxiety returned. The road home no longer welcomed me; just thinking of walking all that way alone made me terrified.

But what could I do?

So I set out, eyes kept on the ground as always and with my head bowed. I had made my way home to safety, only to find Evan there waiting by my door. And I was relieved. Then Orla and Devin came, filling our small house with talk and even some laughter. I hoped it would soothe my nerves, but as Orla and Evan prepared to leave, and the prospect of another day at work started filling my mind, the small wooden cup in my hands shook.

Orla and Devin were busy talking, lost in each other's eyes. I had hoped no one noticed my strange silence. When I looked up though, Evan was staring at me strangely. I tried to smile and failed, quickly directing a question to his sister before he could ask any questions. As they stood up Devin went to escort Orla outside and I could hear them talking softly to each other. Evan and I were silent.

"Would you mind if I saw you again," he finally asked, pausing in front of the doorway. This was my chance; I could say that he must leave me alone, and then I might never have to be annoyed or bothered by him again.

"If you want," were the words I spoke.

In my defense, it had been a very trying day, and the idea of seeing him again didn't seem so bad. He smiled at me and said good night, while Devin finished saying goodbye to Orla. Later he and I finished our tea and watched as the candles began to burn out.

"Orla seems like a nice girl," I remarked, breaking the silence.

"Yeah she is. Evan seems cool too," He replied, looking at me slyly over the rim of his cup. I pointedly ignored his comment, finished my tea, and said I was going to bed. But for the second night in a row, sleep eluded me.

I had just fallen into a fitful dream-like state when I felt Devin gently shake me awake.

"Sis, are you alright? I have to go to work..." My eyes opened and I saw him leaning over me, looking concerned. I didn't dare answer him at first, afraid I would beg him to stay and not leave me alone; but I couldn't say that.

He was my little brother. It was my job to protect him, not the other way around.

"Go on, I'm up. I'll see you later tonight," I sat up to reassure him, pulling the woolen blanket away from myself so that he knew I wouldn't go back to sleep.

"Ok, have a good day Sis," He smiled warmly before leaving. The hut was heavy with silence. Sweet, beautiful silence. Every particle in me begged to stay in my nice warm bed. The smell of the dried grass that stuffed my mattress was comforting.

"Stop it! You are not a coward!" I said out loud, hoping to shake some courage into me. It didn't work. Although the morning was only cool, and the sun had risen, my hands were cold. My stomach was cramped with fear. No matter how many times I told myself to stop being an idiot; after all, the Nietzschean probably wouldn't even remember me, it was all I could to do to get dressed and leave the house.

My day started out normal enough; there were the everyday chores to perform, the usual orders and demands from the petty masters and mistresses we served. My fears seemed to be as irrational as I had told myself they were.

It was my turn to clean up after the midday meal, and I was washing dishes in the kitchen area when I felt a hand slide around my neck. The bowl in my hands fell into the basin of soapy water underneath it.

"Well well, we meet again, and so soon." The deep voice I had heard yesterday. His grip on the back of my neck tightened painfully and as he leaned forward I could feel his breath on my ear.

"After your work is done, you will go to the edge of the lake and wait for me. Do you understand?" I couldn't move, couldn't think; there was a loud buzzing in the back of my mind that nearly drowned out his words.

"I'll take your silence as a yes. Don't disappoint me, I'd hate to kill you," then he was gone as quickly and as silently as he had entered. I stood there shaking, and slid to the floor as a wave of numbness ran through me. Taking long deep breaths I gathered my scattered thoughts. What to do? What a stupid question -as if I had a choice. Didn't I? No. If I died, what would Devin do? And who's to say that if I disobeyed, the Nietzschean wouldn't kill Devin instead of me once he learned of my brother? There were no other options. I hadn't thought of my mother's stern order for almost nine years, but now I heard them as clearly as the day she said them:

"Never, _ever_, question the Lord or his people, do you understand me Josephine? There's no point. Nothing will be gained from it."

She was right then, and she was right now. My fate had been sealed the moment I'd been born on this earth.

The rest of the day flew by in a blur of colors, sounds, and shapes. Although I performed my duties perfectly, I was vacant inside. All my life, my one protection has been my silence. To pretend that I wasn't a part of my body was something I'd been doing all my life. As my footsteps led me to the shore of the only clean lake in this former state of Massachusetts, my thoughts were far, far away. There; someone was standing by the lake, but on the end farthest from the house, in the direction of the village. Steeling myself, I walked forward, eyes and face blank.

Usually I would admire the sun setting over the water as I walked home; now, walking towards the sandy shore, I couldn't even bring myself to open my eyes. The ground was flat, and I didn't care if I tripped, so I kept my eyes shut tightly. Maybe if I couldn't see anything, it would all go away. At last, judging the distance mentally, I stopped, not daring to even breathe. Then something shattered my wall of protective nothingness.

"Hey Josephine, Devin told me you liked to stop here after work, so I thought I'd come and catch up with you. What are you doing?..." My eyes flew open and I took a step back. No! It couldn't be! But there stood Evan Harper, smiling and looking at me curiously.

"What are you doing here?" I gasped, trembling with suppressed fear. The tone of my voice must have concerned him, because he took a step towards me.

"What's wrong? You look terrified," He unfolded his arms and looked over my face.

"Just go! Leave, ok? I'll –I'll meet you back at my house!" Panic made my words short, and I tried to nudge him towards the road. He resisted, confusion spreading over his features.

"Josephine, tell me what's going on!" Before I could answer he looked past me and froze. Slowly I turned around, afraid of what I'd see. A few paces behind us stood the Nietzschean, the one who'd told me to come in the first place.

"I don't believe I asked you to invite any friends," his voice was soft, but his eyes and smile were those of a predator.

"He was just leaving Sir," It took all my strength to get those words out, and I moved in front of Evan, hoping he'd get the message. He didn't.

"Like hell I was!" He grabbed me by the arm and pulled me back. I think my mouth literally fell open in shock. I knew he was little more than a savage when it came to interacting with people, but I didn't think he was _this_ insane!

"Come on Josephine, we're leaving," Eyes locked with the Nietzschean's, Evan pushed me towards the road, but this time it was I who resisted.

"Evan, don't do this," I whispered furiously. "He'll kill you!"

"Josephine, I didn't know you cared," Not turning to look at me, he said the words equally softly and I felt a pain of both guilt and annoyance.

"Kludge, I shall give you one chance to go about your business. The girl stays here."

"No, I really don't think she will," With that Evan shoved me back towards the road. I stumbled backwards for a few steps on the uneven ground before falling against a few scrawny trees.

"Have it your way kludge. Either way I'll still have my fun," The Nietzschean smiled again and lunged before Evan could move. The two fell to the ground and blood marked where they landed; the Nietzschean had sliced Evan's arms with his bone blades.

"Jo, _run_!" Evan cried out, attempting to fight off the Nietzschean. I didn't know what to do. Not thinking clearly, I scrambled to my feet and started running up the hill. Tears ran down my face and I looked around frantically for someplace to hide. That's when my thoughts began to clear. What was I doing? I couldn't just leave Evan there to die. I had to do something. A small voice in my head was asking why I should risk my life for him, but I ignored it. Justifying my actions was something I could worry about later.

Right now I needed a weapon. The sun had almost disappeared from the sky, making it difficult to see what was on the ground. I started back down the hill anyway, hands running through the grass for balance when my right hand closed around a fallen branch. I lifted it and found myself running towards the two dark forms struggling on the beach next to the lake. With a strangled cry I swung the branch with all my might against the back of the Nietzschean, who had pinned Evan on the ground. This only resulted in the Nietzschean turning on _me_, backhanding me across the face. Adrenaline kept my mind off the pain as I fell; face first, into the ground. Luckily this had given Evan a chance to get back to his feet. I heard a yell and turned, standing up. Evan had jumped onto the Uber's back, trying to strangle him. If the circumstances had been different it would have looked amusing; after all, the Nietzschean was twice our size. The Nietzschean had reacted by digging one arm's bone blades into Evan's side.

I screamed in rage now, not just for Evan's sake, but for mine as well. What had either of us done to deserve this? I had never done anything wrong in my life, and this was what I got? Part of me wanted to be killed; this was all so pointless! And I didn't like the idea of my entire life being pointless. The Nietzschean saw me get up and swung a powerful kick at me. I dodged it. With strength I didn't know I had, I twisted to the side and kicked at _him_. If both his hands had been free he would have simply grabbed my leg and probably broken it, but Evan was still on his back and distracting him enough for me to manage the kick to his stomach. I didn't wait for a response; I kicked at him again, this time aiming for his chest. Meanwhile Evan kept a hold on the Nietzschean's neck; and at last the Uber fell to his knees. I backed away as he tried to lash out with his free arm. When he couldn't reach me, the Nietzschean moved his arm behind him swiftly and stabbed Evan with the bone blades. I screamed as Evan cried out again, and more blood soaked into the sandy soil. Still he hung on, until at last the Nietzschean collapsed to the ground. Evan rolled away from him and lay still. He looked terrible; he was covered in blood, his clothes were ripped, and his eyes were closed. Gulping for air, my mind still trying to absorb what had happened, I took three steps forward before falling to the ground. Just before I fainted, the thought came to me that for the second time in my life, someone would die because of my weakness.

When I woke it was still dark. I wish I could say that I found myself in my bed, with someone, perhaps Devin, telling me that everything was all right.

Instead I sat up on the ground next to the lake, the same place where I had fallen. In retrospect, I should have counted myself lucky that no Nietzscheans had discovered us, or I would probably have never woken up at all. Pain coursed through my back and shoulders as I struggled to my feet. For a few seconds I stood there taking slow deep breathes. Then I opened my eyes and saw Evan, lying where he had collapsed earlier. I fought back a startled cry and hurried to his side, kneeling over him. He had to be alive! He couldn't die because he'd tried to help me!

"Come on Evan, you have to get up! I can't carry you back to my house!" I checked his pulse; he was alive, but barely. Panic was starting to disrupt my thinking so I shoved my fist into my mouth and bit hard. I tasted blood, but the pain had helped me to focus. Another deep breath and I got to my feet. There was no way I could carry him all the way to my house, and dragging him there would only worsen his condition. I glanced at the still form of the Nietzschean. Trying not to think about it, I walked over and checked his pulse, recoiling after a few seconds in disgust. He was dead. We had killed a Nietzschean! Impatiently I dismissed this thought; I'd think about the implications of our actions tomorrow. I cast one more look to Evan, and my resolve hardened.

"Don't die," I ordered him quietly. Then I ran.

I've never been much of a runner, but now I practically _flew_. I swear I don't think my feet even touched the ground. Despite the heavy darkness I didn't stumble or falter. As I ran I only allowed two thoughts to go through my mind: Find Devin, and Bring Evan Back. All other thoughts or words were useless, so I pushed them to the back of my mind.

Can I describe the relief I felt when the light shining from our small window reached my eyes? No, I don't think I can. In a nanosecond I burst through the door, scaring Devin half to death.

"Josephine!" He couldn't say anything else at the sight of me; blood splattered on my dress and face, which was red from my running.

"Evan –he's hurt." I gasped for breath, hands on my knees. "We have to help him!" Devin didn't say anything, but he walked over to me and grasped my hands.

"Are you sure_ you're_ all right?"

"Evan needs help!" I screamed at him, never having felt this frustrated with my little brother before. "Come on!" I didn't wait for an answer; I turned and started running back the way I came. For a moment I was afraid he wouldn't follow, and then he was running just behind me. I was thankful that he knew better than to ask any questions. We ran in silence, except for the sound of our heavy breathing, until we reached the lakeshore.

"Over here," I managed to say, trying to fill my lungs with air. I ignored the burning sensations in my ribs and the cramps from running. I wouldn't die; but Evan might.

Devin saw where I had pointed, and I knew he was tempted to ask what had happened, especially after seeing the dead Nietzschean. But he didn't say anything as he ran down to where Evan lay. I could tell from his face that he wasn't sure if Evan would survive the night. With a grunt Devin lifted Evan onto his shoulders, grimacing under the dead weight of him.

"Do you need help carrying him?" I asked, but Devin shook his head determinedly, so I instead lead the way back home, constantly looking over my shoulder to see if any other Nietzscheans had discovered what had happened. The walk back was slow; Devin was stronger than me, but that didn't mean carrying Evan was easy for him. I had little sympathy to spare for my brother; as we reached the house I ran inside to fix my bed up and to get whatever medicines we had ready.

A few moments later Devin came inside and carefully put Evan down on the bed.

"Fill up some bowls with water," I ordered, ripping up a blanket to use for bandages. When Devin didn't move, I turned to repeat my order, but before I could speak I felt his hands on my shoulders firmly.

"Josephine, you're exhausted. Go lay down, I can take care of Evan for awhile." I tried protesting, but the reserve of strength I'd felt earlier was leaving me rapidly. Devin led me to his bed and my eyes were closed before I even lay down.

I slept for most of the next day. Devin told me later that he'd cleaned up as much of the blood on Evan as he could, used some of the herbs to make a poultice, and applied them with the bandages I'd made. I was proud of him; Mom had taught me how to treat most wounds, and after she and Dad died, I had taught Devin, but hadn't thought he had paid attention. Luckily he proved me wrong.

When I finally woke from my deep sleep Devin was gone. He'd left to go find Orla and Liam, but of course I didn't know that at the time. Standing up slowly, I blinked to clear my eyes. Everything was so peaceful and quiet. I turned and went over to where Evan was, relieved to find him sleeping. Pulling over one of our stools, I sat by his side, gradually allowing my mind to go over everything that had happened. To be honest, I wasn't scared of retaliation from the Nietzscheans. I was guessing that any male Nietzschean who could be defeated by two puny kludges wouldn't be missed very much. Besides, if no one had seen us, they would probably assume that he'd been killed by another Nietzschean.

No longer having to worry about that, I studied Evan himself, my left hand brushing a strand of hair from his forehead. To my surprise his eyes opened slowly, focused, and then he smiled up at me faintly. I couldn't keep a small smile from my face either.

"How are you feeling?" I asked quietly. Evan had some amazing luck; although being stuck with bone blades on both of his sides, as well as numerous hits all around his body, nothing vital had been ruptured or broken. Since Devin had been able to halt the bleeding, he would be ok, provided he was given the opportunity to rest.

"Like I'm in heaven," he teased me, trying to sit up a little, but his face grimaced in pain and he quickly stopped trying to move. I rolled my eyes, though I shouldn't have been surprised that he was making jokes on his deathbed.

"You know, I've met a lot of stupid people in my life, but you definitely take first place,"

"I like to think of it as bravery, you know, as in courage,"

"There is a very fine line between courage and stupidity; you seem to keep falling on the wrong side of that line." This time he rolled his eyes as I laughed a little.

"I guess that means I'm not even going to get any thanks for saving you?"

"No," I said simply. He sighed and I gave him another smile before standing up and bringing him some water.

"It's not like I asked you to help, remember? You might have ended up making things worse," I held the cup as he took a few small sips.

"Yeah, but I was willing to risk my life to save yours, that's gotta mean something, right?" He finally asked, his intense blue gaze making me feel uneasy.

"Yeah, I guess it does," I didn't know what else to say, and we were both quiet for another long stretch of time.

"Will you marry me?" I shook my head, coming out of my daze, and looked down at him, totally confused, and certain that I had misheard.

"Sorry?"

"Will you marry me?" He said the words with a completely serious face. And I have to say, that for at least one moment, the word 'yes' formed on my lips. Almost.

"Maybe," I said the word heavily after staring at him in surprise for a few minutes.

"Just 'maybe'?" He didn't seem very encouraged by my answer. Strangely enough, I didn't feel annoyed at him. Actually, I'm not sure what I felt, but it wasn't a bad feeling. At least, I don't think it was.

"I'm sorry Evan; just because you played the part of a valiant hero doesn't make me some rescued princess who suddenly finds herself in love with you. I'm not saying no, but I can't tell you yes. So you'll just have to live with maybe." He was quiet for a minute, then nodded and smiled.

"Ok, 'maybe' I can work with. It can be changed to a 'yes' after all."

"You're welcome to try," I didn't want to get his hopes up. I was glad he was going to live, really, I was, but I seriously doubted he could make me want to marry him.

How very wrong I was.

Author's Note:

Thanks for the reviews everyone! If it hadn't been for all of you I probably would have given up by now, even though I enjoy writing this. Sorry the last chapter was a little sloppy, I was in a hurry and didn't have much time to edit it. I'll try to make sure that doesn't happen again. Thanks,

-Luna Sealeaf


	5. Episode Five

**Earth's Children**

Summary: The parents of Harper tell their tale of life and love in Post-Commonwealth Earth.

Author: Luna Sealeaf

Rating: PG

Disclaimer: Figured I should go ahead and add one of these, just in case...Basically I do not own...um. Well, I don't own the universe of Andromeda, which includes the Nietzscheans and Magog. I did create Harper's parents though, as well as the rest of his family. Nor do I own these lyrics. What lyrics? Oh, forget it and just read.

"Tell him to make me a cambric shirt,

Parsley, Sage, Rosemary, and Thyme,

Without no seams nor needlework,

Then he'll be a true love of mine..."

-Ancient Earth lyrics

Episode Five

_ Will you marry me?_

_ ...Maybe..._

_ Maybe?!_

What kind of answer is that to a marriage proposal? The question had been asked that morning, with the answer given, and now it was evening. Josephine avoided me throughout the day, insisting she had chores to do. The awkward atmosphere and the lack of company were killing me faster than any of my wounds could have. Suffice it to say I was extremely glad to see Orla, Liam, and even Lughna, when they entered the small hut.

Orla let out a small sob and ran over to my side, giving me a hard hug. A very hard hug.

"Ouch! No, its ok Orla, really, I'm just a bit sore," I tried to smile reassuringly at her, but she didn't smile back.

"Thank you so much for saving him Devin," Orla turned to Devin, who was grinning sheepishly by the door. I felt a surge of annoyance at the situation. How come saving my life made Orla grateful, while saving Josephine's life –and nearly dying for it, mind you- only got me a 'maybe'. I didn't have time to dwell on these thoughts as Liam approached my other side, pressing a hand briefly to my forehead.

"You did a good job Mr. Lahey, it doesn't look like a fever's set in..."

"Yeah thanks, now if you're all done staring at me like I'm some freakin' medical miracle..." the words were said a little harshly, I admit, and Liam frowned at me, but I think Devin understood.

"I'm going to see Josephine," He said, and then quickly ducked out the door. Good, I needed some time with just my siblings.

"Evan, you shouldn't swear," Orla chided me, but I knew she was only teasing. I relaxed a bit and grinned, trying to sit up a little in the bed.

"So, care to tell us what happened? Devin didn't know anything," Liam finally asked, arms folded across his chest as he looked down at me.

"The short version? I took out a Nietzschean," There were a few disbelieving looks, but I continued before they could interrupt me. "Ok, maybe not by myself. Josephine helped. Anyway, that's not important. I need to talk to you guys," I glanced at Lughna, "alone."

"Whatever you need to say, you can say in front of Lughna. She's going to be family soon anyway." He held out his hand and Lughna stepped forward as she grasped it. They exchanged warm smiles and Orla suddenly smiled happily at the two of them.

"What do you mean Liam?" She asked excitedly.

"Well, we were going to wait until Evan was feeling better, but I guess now's as good a time as any...Evan, Orla; Lughna agreed to marry me." Orla practically shrieked with happiness and went to hug Lughna. I was glowering at the happy couple. I mean, how's that for stealing my moment?

"So, anyone even care to hear _my_ news?" I snapped. The other three turned back to me looking a little guilty. Well, at least that was something.

"Of course Evan, we're sorry," Orla went over to the stool that Josephine had been sitting on earlier and took my hand. As always, Orla's words soothed me.

"Congratulations though, Liam...and you Lughna." This was all kind of weird, but I managed to smile at them both.

"Thanks Evan. So, what is this news you want to tell us?" Liam cajoled me. Now that the moment had come to say it, I was feeling a little reluctant. All right, maybe the right word was embarrassed. _Why_ couldn't Liam have announced his proposal, his _positive_ proposal, some other night?

"I asked Josephine to marry me," I finally announced, trying to look pleased with myself.

"Wow, you sure make your moves quick," Devin had come back inside, just in time to hear my words. He looked surprised, but not displeased.

"Yeah, so what'd she say?" Liam asked after a few moments of stunned silence.

"Well, er, it's complicated." I felt myself blushing, and picked at the blanket uncomfortably.

"Did she say no?" Orla asked in a soft voice, all ready to be comforting.

"Not exactly." I replied, trying to form an explanation in my mind.

"Should we plan a double wedding?" Liam ventured to ask, trying to get me to explain further.

"She said 'maybe', ok? I just gotta give her some time, that's all." The others didn't look very convinced.

After a few more minutes of talking and fussing over me, they finally left to return to the camp. Devin and Josephine had graciously agreed to let me stay at their house until I recovered, or until Liam and the girls managed to build a house. Whichever came first.

"Ouch! Ow!"

"Quit being such a baby!" Josephine ordered in an exasperated voice.

"Do you have to rip them off so hard?" I ground my teeth in pain, but she only rolled her eyes.

"Trust me, its better if I do this faster. Now if you don't stop complaining I'll tell Devin to do it instead." That silenced me up pretty quick.

A week had passed since my proposal to Josephine, and she was changing the bandages on my wounds. Unfortunately the stuff Devin had put on them dried and stuck to my skin, making it very painful for them to come off. But any time alone with Josephine was a gift. Even if it was a painful one.

I had finally been allowed out of bed as my wounds started to close. Where could I go to? Any chair that was inside the hut. Still, it was progress. And at least I didn't have to go to work; either in the factory or helping Liam build our house, which was going to be situated near the Lahey's. I did feel a little guilty about not helping; but only a little. After all, in a way, I had my own work cut out for me.

Winning Josephine's love.

I used my time stuck in bed to plan a strategy. When Devin returned from work he and I would sit together and he'd help me come up with ideas. Josephine had insisted on going back to work, despite our protests, claiming that no one would suspect her of anything, since no one took any notice of her. This was obviously flawed logic; how had we ended up with a dead Nietzschean in the first place? But neither Devin nor I could convince her not to go. On the bright side, this gave us plenty of time to talk.

"Orla's favorite color is white," I informed him. I was still bed-ridden and Devin was sitting at the stool by my bed.

"White? White?! Where am I supposed to find anything that's white?" Devin exclaimed. It was true that white cloth was difficult to come by; the closest most people had was a dull yellowish color.

"As if you need to worry about it! Orla's already smitten with you! Now what about Josephine?"

"She doesn't have one."

"Are you serious?!"

"Yes; she claims that picking a favorite color is pointless." We both sighed at the same time. Whoever said winning a girl's heart was easy?

Not that our time was solely taken up by these rather frivolous activities. No; even though I would eventually look back on these times as a sweet, if brief, reprieve from the outside world, bigger things than our love lives were changing. The Nietzscheans were slowly moving out of the countryside, though no one knew why. There were all sorts of rumors; the most absurd claiming that the Drago-Kazov were leaving Earth altogether. Others claimed that they were simply tired of the boring land and were in search of better places to live. Whatever the reason was, their slow leaving was both a blessing and a curse. On the one hand, fewer Nietzscheans meant, well, fewer Nietzscheans. On the other hand, fewer Nietzscheans meant fewer jobs, and less money.

But these curious tidings were in the back of all our minds. Lughna and Orla were busy planning a wedding. I have never seen two girls giggle so much! Even Josephine volunteered to help with the planning. While I grumbled about my lack of an answer and Devin gazed at Orla with love-sick eyes, Liam and Lughna quietly talked about their plans for their future together.

"Of course Evan and Orla will still live with us," Liam was saying one night at dinner. The Laheys had pretty much been integrated into our life, not that anyone was complaining, and we often all had our meals together.

"Yes, but we're going to build another smaller shed next to the main one for when there's children," Lughna had become more talkative over the past few weeks, and most of the time the subject was on children. And Liam was always holding her hand. It was sickeningly sweet. I met Josephine's eyes and made a face, glancing at Liam and Lughna, then back to her. She understood and laughed, making me feel ten stories high. Orla was also caught up in this whirl of romance.

"Isn't this great? All three Harper siblings in love," She murmured softly one night when the two of us were alone.

"Who's the lucky guy?" I teased gently. She playfully nudged an elbow against my arm.

"Devin of course...you're so horrible Evan!" I considered telling Devin what Orla had confided but eventually decided not to, for more than one reason. The selfish one was that I didn't want those two announcing their engagement while Josephine and I were so uncertain. The selfless one was that Orla had confided it to me as a secret, and while Devin and I had become close friends, Orla was still my twin sister.

And then, at long last, it was announced that I was fit to be on my feet! After two months of planning, I could finally convince Josephine to make her 'maybe' a 'yes'!

That is, after I'd helped to build our house, gone to work, and did a thousand other chores. I managed by using the times in between our endless tasks. For instance, on my way home from work I scoured the countryside until at last I found a handful of plants pretty enough to be called flowers. Casually walking into the Lahey home and telling Devin to beat it -he saw the flowers and laughed, saying that he'd have to steal my idea and get some for Orla- I then waited until Josephine returned to present my token of love and affection.

"Thank you Evan, they're lovely. I didn't think there were any nontoxic plants left this side of the Prime Meridian..." She saw the look on my face and looked down at the flowers in her hands.

"Er...maybe you shouldn't smell them too deeply...or anything," I said in an effort to save face. To my surprise she laughed, walked up to me and kissed my cheek, before turning and tossing the flowers outside.

"Um, what just happened?" I asked, confused by her mixed signals. Throwing away the flower's I'd given her didn't seem like a good thing, but then she had- wait- SHE KISSED ME?

"No one else but you would get me poisonous flowers to express your love for me," she sank into a chair by the table and laughed. I gave an unsure smile, finally laughing myself.

"So...?"

"No. It's still maybe."

"Right."

Over the next year things continued this way. We were all so busy just trying to survive that minor things, like the wedding, and my pursuit of Josephine, had to come second in priorities. Not that our efforts ceased. It was just, as Orla put it, that there wasn't enough time in the day to do all the things we had to do. The girls were busy trying to put together a nice dress for Lughna, Liam was trying to build a house and maybe find some land where we could grow food, and the rest of us were going to work and helping the others. We ended up doing what most other human beings had learned to do; cope with as little sleep as possible. It's funny, but when you're life could end unexpectedly at any day and at any time; you tend to try and waste as little time as possible sleeping. According to some doctors, this minimization of sleep was adding to our already defective immune systems. Sadly, not many people listened to them. We were too busy trying to survive.

My oh-so-grand scheme to win Josephine over consisted mainly of talking with her. I'd go over in the late evening and hang out with her and Devin. If Josephine wasn't in the mood for flirting, I'd simply talk with Devin. It didn't escape our notice that our two names rhymed.

"It must be fate," Devin joked as we sat sipping cups of tea.

"In that case, fate must be against you Devin," Josephine remarked as she poured herself a cup. We both looked at her in surprise.

"What do you mean?" Devin finally asked.

"Think about it. If you and Orla ever get married, she'll be Orla Lahey." I burst out laughing but poor Devin paled and looked terrified.

"I hadn't thought about that," he said quietly. I cast a glance at Josephine, who, although pretending to be serious, was enjoying her brother's discomfort.

"Don't worry about it Devin, Orla will either not care, or she'll just keep her own last name. It's not that big of a deal."

"You're right Evan," he finally said, and was soon laughing and joking once more.

I still liked to surprise Josephine with gifts, though this time I made sure they weren't potentially deadly ones. As the leaves on the spindly trees changed colors, I searched the thin forests for nuts and pretty pieces of wood. Then, using the little knife I'd made awhile ago, I carved them into small round beads. With a few pieces of thread I had a necklace as a gift for her. Again I made sure to give it to her when we were alone. In this case, we were both outside behind her house.

"You made this?" She asked incredulously, holding the necklace up so she could see it better.

"Yes, I hope it fits," I added quickly. She tied it around her neck, giving me a strange smile.

"How does it look?" she finally asked.

"Beautiful." Was my reply. I was hardly trying to buy her affection though, and Josephine knew that. She would talk to me more and more each time we were together, either at our house or hers. My determination to win her love only increased.

Strangely enough, fate almost seemed to have had a hand in all this. I've never been a big believer in destiny, but as spring began to thaw the long and bitter winter, something happened that almost changed my beliefs.

"You know, Josephine loves music," Devin told me quietly as we walked back from the factories together.

"What kind of music?" He gave me a look that clearly said he wondered if I was _trying_ to be an idiot, or if it came naturally.

"_Any_ music," he rolled his eyes and said this as though it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"Well what do you expect me to do? Sing her a love ballad?"

"It couldn't hurt. Besides, I thought you Irish had tons of love songs,"

"Sure we do. But that doesn't automatically make us all good singers!" He shrugged and we continued walking in silence. His words had started to make me think, there was something I could do, in theory, but...

The next day solved my problem, and as I said, nearly made me rethink my beliefs about fate.

I was helping Liam finish putting up the door to our house, which was finally about done, when he looked around to make sure none of the girls were near, and said in a whisper,

"You know, Lughna was saying the other day how she'd like to have some music at our wedding. She wants to dance, you know how women are."

"Uh huh," I wasn't paying much attention, trying to wield our ungainly hammers, which were really just sharp pieces of stones tied to sticks.

"Well, I was thinking, maybe you could do it."

"Do what?" He stopped working and set his hammer down. Confused, I turned and did the same thing.

"Play your tin whistle of course. You always had more talent than any of us,"

"That's not true, Alan was always the best." I countered, and then we both fell silent. Alan and Hagan were our two older brothers. They were already adults by the time Orla and I were born. When I was five they were taken by Nietzscheans and sent away. We never found out where, and we never saw or heard from them again. Finally we left these sad thoughts and Liam continued,

"Yeah but you're still better than me or Orla."

"I'm not saying I wouldn't Liam, but there is the fact that I don't have anything to play on. The Ubers didn't exactly give us a chance to pack before we left home, remember?"

"That's where you're wrong," Liam leaned forward conspiratorially, and despite myself, I leaned forward as well.

"There's a man who works next to me at the factory. He was with us on the boat from Ireland, and he has a tin whistle. It belonged to his cousin and he'd been holding on to it for him when the Nietzscheans took him. He can't play it though, and when I told him about you, he said he'd be willing to trade it for some food and clothing."

Suddenly I remembered what Devin had told me about Josephine's love of music and I grinned.

"How much food?" It was Liam's turn to grin and he gripped my shoulder affectionately.

"Thanks Evan, I know it'll mean a lot to Lughna...and to me." I shrugged his hand off, but didn't stop smiling.

"Quit with the lovey-doveyness. We've got work to do." He laughed and we continued on the door. Even if it hadn't been for Josephine, or Liam's wedding, I would have looked forward to playing music again. It was one of the things I'd missed most about our old life.

As spring started to fully take its hold on the land, many things came to an ending.

Three weeks after Liam and I had discussed the tin whistle, a clearing was made in the woods and we decorated the trees (carefully) with the same flowers I had once gathered for Josephine. Liam went to stay with the Laheys, since for the final week he and Lughna weren't supposed to look at each other, and we, as the only present surviving family members for both the bride and the groom, prepared our speeches that would give our approval to the match and make their wedding as official as anything could be in those times.

I also practiced on the tin whistle Liam had recovered. It wasn't as good as mine, but it would do. Our excitement continued to grow and finally the day came. While Josephine and Orla prepared Lughna, Devin and I went to go help Liam. The girls had the hard part; Liam didn't need help getting dressed, so mostly we were just there for moral support. And to tease him mercilessly of course. Liam, however, was no fun. When we joked that he'd be stuck with dozens of kids, he simply remarked that he wanted a large family. He was infuriating that way. Not that it mattered; we enjoyed the time alone together. I guess it was also a little sad. Our childhood was officially ending, almost simultaneously. None of us had been kids for a long time, but it was still a little strange.

"I wish Mom and Dad could be here," I said softly. Liam nodded in agreement and we were silent, thinking of them, until he said,

"They'd want us to be happy." He was right, so we turned our minds to other matters.

The ceremony was extremely nice. The sky was as clear as it could be, and the day was warm. Lughna looked lovely in a pale violet dress that went surprisingly well with her red curls. (It had taken Orla and her forever to collect enough berries to make the dye; I had even been roped into helping) Still, it was startling at how different she was from the scared young girl we'd first met. And in all our time of knowing her, she'd never once talked about her family, or even told us her real last name.

We all stood in a circle with Liam and Lughna in the middle, taking turns to recite our little speeches. At last it was Liam's turn to make his pledge. Lughna said her part, they embraced and kissed, and the rest of us cheered. Did I forget to add how beautiful Josephine looked? Her hair was pulled back in a braid and she'd worn a tighter-fitting dress than the ones she normally wore; it was a dark forest green. Devin whispered to me that it had belonged to their mother, so I told her several times how good she looked in it until finally she swore never to wear it again unless I shut up.

Then there was the time for gift-giving. Orla had sewn Lughna a blouse (where she found the time to I can't imagine) and Liam a hat, Devin had found a large pretty stone, polished it, and carved their names into it. Josephine had made the food for the wedding, but she also gave several packets of herbs for various uses, (such as medicine...) and finally it was my turn. Liam already knew what my gift would be, and he gave a small smile as I stood up to announce my present.

"It's to both of you...wait a second," I turned and ran up the hill to fetch the whistle while the others tried to guess what I was doing.

When I returned, I showed the whistle with both hands so everyone could see it. I had taken extra time to try and polish the outside, and it shown brightly. Orla gasped and clapped her hands when she saw it, Liam laughed, and Lughna actually had tears in her eyes.

"What is it?" Devin finally asked, and by the look on Josephine's face she was wondering the same thing.

"Tsch tsch, we'll have to enlighten the heathens," I joked and Devin laughed in that good-natured way of his.

I watched Josephine's face as I started to play. I wish there had been some other instruments to go along with it; the sound can be a bit harsh when it's alone. Everyone was silent, listening in awe for several moments, and then Orla stood up and began to sing. It was a song we used to perform for our family a long time ago, and I quickly joined in with the accompaniment. Liam and Lughna tried to teach Devin and Josephine how to dance to the song, and although they didn't quite get the footwork, we enjoyed it just the same. Orla took a turn on the whistle (she knew a few songs) so I could have a turn to dance. Of course I went next to Josephine, and as I turned to ask what she was thinking, I was startled to see her eyes filled with water. I almost asked what was wrong with her; never had I thought to see Josephine cry. But I didn't get the chance to say anything; it was she that turned to me and asked,

"Will you play like that for our wedding?" I swear the earth stopped turning for at least four minutes as the words, one by one, became absorbed into my brain.

"Yes?" I finally managed to say. It was both a question and an answer.

"Yes." She repeated, tears flowing down her eyes. I stopped dancing, causing Liam to nearly step on my foot, and hugged her tightly. I was relieved, and a little surprised, when she hugged me back. Later, Lughna came up to me and also gave me a hug.

"Thank you so much Evan. This was the best present I could have hoped for," and I felt myself warming up to my new sister-in-law; even managing a joke about wanting a future nephew named after me in return for the music. Beside me, her hand clasped tightly in mine, Josephine laughed.

I know this will sound cliché and a little trite, but it really was one of the best days of my life.

Author's Note:

I'm so happy! They're together at last! It took 'em long enough didn't it? But if it had been too easy than it wouldn't have been romantic. As you all probably know, telling me what you think will make me write faster. And I can't thank you enough for all the encouraging replies! Especially Kitty, who was the first and only (other than Parisindy) person on to read my story. Thank you, all. The next part will come as quickly as I can write it.

-Luna Sealeaf


	6. Episode Six

** Earth's Children**

Summary: The parents of Harper tell their tale of life and love in Post-Commonwealth Earth.

Author: Luna Sealeaf

Rating: PG

Disclaimer: Again, I do not own any Andromeda characters, so don't sue me, etc. etc...

'With the decrease in life expectancy, so common on Nietzschean slave worlds, Homo Sapiens often experienced a sense of 'living in the moment' as the natives of Earth called it. This 'rush', which is believed to be the result of chemical imbalances due to extremely stressful situations, could last from one year to ten, depending on the individual...'

'I believe some would refer to this as _desperation_, Master Historian.'

'Well yes, that is the unscientific term for it.'

-Excerpt from The Memoirs of a Perseid Librarian -AFC 56

Episode Six

Isn't it strange how one relatively small action can change the world around you?

Somehow, Devin and I had been assimilated into this strange foreign family. How could I have let this happen? After my parents had been killed, I decided to make sure that I would never again experience something so painful. While Devin made friends with the other villagers, I went out of my way to be politely distant. If Devin wanted to grow up and get married and have a family, that was his choice; as for me, having one person to worry about was more than enough.

Never, in a million years, did I imagine myself getting married.

Yet here I was, being hugged fiercely by a man whom I had just agreed to wed. Strange didn't begin to cover the emotions I was dealing with. Then again, music has always been my weakness. When I was little Dad would sometimes steal recordings from the Nietzschean houses or factories, just so I could hear all the ancient songs. And yet, if music is my weakness, how come I suddenly felt so strong?

Was it possible that I was actually in love with Evan Harper? This question brought me back to reality and I pushed back from our hug to study his smiling face and bright blue eyes. No; I didn't love him, not fully, not yet. But there was something else, a feeling of... relief? No, that wasn't the right word. I don't know if there _was_ a word to describe what I felt, but I believe it was something between hope and optimism, two feelings that had rarely entered my life.

With joy radiating from his face Evan, grasping my hand, was about to announce our news when Lughna came up to thank him for the music. As they spoke I let my mind wander, feeling a little lightheaded from the many sensations the day had brought. Evan made a joke to her about wanting a nephew named after him, and to my surprise, it was funny enough to make me laugh. Or perhaps I was becoming a little hysterical at that point; I can't be sure. But don't think I was having second thoughts; strange as the idea was for me, the idea of marrying Evan made me feel happy...nervous, terrified, and very unsure of myself, but still happy.

Then Evan raised his voice to tell the others that another wedding would have to be planned, and Devin was at my side, hugging me and saying how happy he was for Evan and me. I responded by laughing and asking when he would ask Orla. Devin blushed and muttered something too quiet to hear, prompting even more laughter.

So the day wore on, we ate and danced a little more while Evan played more songs, until the moon had risen in the sky and Liam announced the wedding celebrations to be over. After bidding the newly wed couple good night, good luck, etc. I found myself beside Evan.

"We can get married any time you like...the sooner the better, as far as I'm concerned," he spoke softly so the others wouldn't overhear.

"You know, I'm almost sorry I said yes. It was fun watching you constantly trying to impress me," I wasn't changing the subject, honestly.

"Oh yeah, tons of fun." We laughed a little nervously before he returned to his question,

"Well? Next week? Next month? Tomorrow?" the last was said teasingly, but I knew he wasn't completely joking.

"Just give me enough time to make a dress. I want a new dress to get married in." I could see he wanted to object; after all, it had taken Lughna practically the whole year to make her dress, but instead he simply nodded. This endeared him to me better than he could have planned. I smiled and gave him a brief kiss on the mouth. His eyes were round with shock.

"Payback for our fist meeting," was my only reply. With a wink I turned, beckoned to Devin, and headed back home, leaving my betrothed speechless.

I decided that while it wouldn't take me a year to sew a new dress, neither did I feel any reason to rush. It took me a week to even choose the color: blue. After that it was just a matter of finding time to gather the materials. Orla came over one day to help me rip up an old gown that had been my mothers.

"So Josephine, whatever happened to your parents?" the question was asked curiously, but also softly, in case it offended me. She shouldn't have worried; besides, she was my future sister-in-law, though maybe not officially, and I didn't want to keep secrets from her. Or at least, not too many.

"My mother killed herself after my father was beaten to death by Nietzscheans. I was ten." On the other side of the gown, Orla had stopped ripping seams, gaping at me in pity. I calmly continued my work and glanced pointedly at her side until she quickly began again.

"What about your parents Orla? Are they still in Ireland?"

"My mother is, or at least, she was last time we saw her. If she's still alive. They killed our father the night we were taken." No need to ask who 'they' were. This time it was my turn to look at her with pity.

"I'm so sorry Orla, that's terrible,"

"Not as bad as yours Josephine, at least my parents survived until I was an adult." We had both paused in our work, but neither really noticed.

"Yes but I know what happened to them. You don't know what's become of your mother, and I think the not knowing is worse."

"And my brothers," Orla added softly, but she was staring in the distance and I don't think she said the words for my benefit.

"What about Evan and Liam?" I asked in surprise. Orla's eyes flicked towards me, but still seemed to be looking off into a great distance.

"No, my other brothers. My parents' first and second child, Alan and Hagan, we never knew what happened to them either." She suddenly came back to herself and gave a small shrug and smile.

"I like to think they went somewhere like Dunwich, perhaps even got married and have children, but you're right, the not knowing is hard." We talked little after that, concentrating instead on ripping up the gown.

In the midst of this oh-so-blissful time before the wedding, I still went to work, despite the decrease in Nietzscheans living at the compound. I hadn't really cared why they seemed to be leaving, but I didn't intend to quit until they had all left.

At least the tasks appointed to me weren't hard, and my day no longer ended after the sun had set. To be truthful, I was almost sorry to see the Nietzscheans go, if only because I had never worked anywhere else, and the unknown is always a little frightening.

A few weeks after the wedding, I was cleaning one of the hallways when a female Nietzschean turned a corner and entered the corridor. I stepped to the side, continuing my cleaning, and waited for her to keep walking. When she didn't, I glanced up to see what was wrong. I was startled to find the woman staring at me with a strange expression on her face. Not knowing what to do, I gave a slight bow. The movement seemed to confirm some thought of the Nietzschean's, because her face set as she walked towards me. I froze, not knowing what to do or what she could possibly want with me.

"Girl, how long have you worked here?" The words were said quietly, and anyone passing by would have thought she was giving me a specific order of some kind.

"About, about ten years, my Lady," I whispered back, eyes searching her face to try and understand what she wanted. Nietzscheans, from my experience, never did anything that didn't have a purpose.

"Are you aware that your employers are steadily leaving this territory?" Now I was just baffled; no one had ever stopped to talk to me like this before; it was unnerving to say the least.

"Yes, I had noticed," I replied. This seemed to please her, because she smiled, a tiny one, but it was still a smile.

"I always knew we didn't give you kludges enough credit." I could think of no safe reply to this, so I remained silent.

"And have you stopped to wonder why we are leaving?" She sounded, for all the world, like some schoolteacher prompting their student to give a memorized answer.

"Yes," I said the word slowly and drawn out, suspiciously searching her face as I said it. It has always bothered me that Nietzscheans, even female ones, are at least a head or taller than myself. No wonder they constantly referred to us as 'Girl' or 'Boy'; we must seem like permanent children to them.

"But of course you don't know why, none of you do." The words were said quickly, and clipped, as if she was in a hurry. Or trying to make some sort of point.

"My Lady, I don't understand-"

"Listen to me Girl, if you value your life, or that of your family, you will get out of here. The safest place for your kind is the Refugee Camp." These words of advice did nothing to change my bewilderment. The most likely explanation for all this was that she was playing a game with me; I decided to play along and nodded as though I understood what she was talking about. She stared at me a moment longer, then sighed and continued walking. I watched her retreating back in a kind of daze. What was that all about? Her words had disturbed me, and I went back to my work slowly.

Later that evening I was telling my brother, Evan, and Orla what had happened.

"I think she was trying to warn me," I finally said, breaking the silence that had fallen after I'd retold the Nietzscheans final words. Orla was staring at her folded hands, but she looked up and nodded slightly, eyes troubled. I waited for the others to agree with me, but Devin and Evan simply exchanged glances, with looks of 'who should tell her?' all over their faces.

"What?" I asked, annoyed at their expressions.

"Well, think about it Josephine," Evan said. "What did she tell you to do? 'Go to the Refugee Camps' obviously she's just trying to get more workers." Devin nodded in agreement to his words and I felt a surge of irritation at both of them.

"Oh please, how does that make sense? If they wanted more workers, they wouldn't go around 'suggesting' that we all move to Boston! They could force everyone in Dunwich to the camp with about ten armed guards. Maybe less." Evan still looked dubious, and Devin only shrugged.

"What do _you_ think Orla?" I turned to her, ignoring the boys. She still looked troubled, and her voice was soft as she answered.

"I think we should be cautious. Better safe than sorry, and all that," she tried to lighten her tone by grinning, but it wasn't very convincing. I for one was glad that someone else was also taking this seriously.

"Aw come on, let's change the subject. How's that wedding dress of yours coming?" Evan asked, winking at me. I raised an eyebrow delicately and glared at him.

"Slowly." I said icily. The hurt look on Evan's face was cute, and made me feel a little guilty, but not enough to take the word back. Nor did I talk to him the rest of the evening. But as he and Orla were leaving I gave him a brief, though tight, hug, and kissed his cheek softly. Devin teased me about it the rest of the night, until I threatened to tell Orla his most embarrassing secrets. That shut him up enough for me to get a good night's sleep. I hoped that I wouldn't have any more nightmares about the upcoming wedding, and I didn't. Instead my dreams were filled with dire warnings, strange omens, and the pale corpse of Evan Harper, at which point I awoke drenched in sweat and stifling a scream.

Another month, and then two, crawled by slowly. June came, and with it, the first intense heat of the summer. The last of the Nietzscheans left, and their abandoned buildings were quickly scrapped for raw materials. We took our share, since another hut would needed to be built for Evan and I, and discussions about the wedding commenced again as I put the finishing touches on my dress.

"Ye gods Josephine! It's beautiful!" Lughna exclaimed. She and Orla had come over to help me make adjustments as I tried it on for the first time. I'd have given anything for a mirror, but those were about as rare around here as gold or diamonds.

"Oh I hope I look that good when I get married," Orla sighed. I looked over the dress,and was marking certain places with pins, as I said, rather cynically,

"I wouldn't worry too much; Devin will think you're a dream of perfection no matter what you wear," Lughna laughed as she helped me place a pin in a difficult area.

"Who says I'll be marrying Devin?" pins in my mouth, I turned and glanced at Orla curiously. She was blushing and staring at the ground. Carefully placing the pins in my hand, I then asked,

"What do you mean Orla? Did my idiotic brother do anything stupid?" It was hard to imagine Devin being anything other than a perfect gentleman, but then again, he was a man, and no matter how hard I had tried to teach him to behave, I couldn't fight genetics.

"No, it's what he hasn't done that's bothering me." She didn't continue and Lughna looked up from sewing in the hem of my dress to ask,

"For goodness sakes, spit it out Orla! What's the matter?"

"He hasn't asked me to marry him yet." I was about to shrug and ask if that was all, but then I saw Orla's eyes filled with tears and sighed.

"Just give him some time Orla; he's only eighteen after all. Maybe he's feeling a little scared. Or maybe he's not sure what you're answer will be." Orla nodded but didn't otherwise comment, and the subject soon passed to other things.

Another week went by; time spent in finishing the extra house as well as trying to make the land nearby suitable for growing food. And then...it was the day before my wedding. I hadn't seen Evan for days, but Liam had come over to talk with me. Devin was out, so I made some tea for just the two of us.

"I have to say, Josephine, that if anyone had told me that my little brother would be marrying so soon after me, I would never have believed them." He smiled as I handed him a cup of the steaming liquid.

"I'm surprised to be getting married at all." I blurted out, taking a seat opposite him.

"Well you shouldn't be. You're an amazing woman Josephine. You raised yourself and your young brother in less then perfect conditions, and you've done a wonderful job. My brother is lucky." The words were soothing, and when I looked up I saw that he was still smiling at me. There was something about his presence; maybe it was the way his eyes were so calm and assured, I don't know, but I've never felt so safe or so comfortable around anyone before.

"I'm a little scared," I admitted, setting my tea down nervously. "It's not what I imagined my future to be like."

"How did you picture your life, then?" Liam asked. I thought about it, and then finally looked back up into those eyes, so like Evans, only wiser, for all that Liam was only three years older than him.

"Alone." Was all I could say. It was true; I had expected Devin to eventually grow up and leave me here, where I'd spend the rest of my days in solitude and peaceful seclusion.

"I see." He took a sip of tea thoughtfully before continuing, "I think you'll find this future preferable. If nothing else, you're less likely to get lonely."

"I hope you're right," I answered. We talked over practical matters for a few minutes before he stood up to leave. As we said goodbye, he leaned over and gave me a brisk kiss on the forehead.

"Welcome to the family," He smiled and left. And for the first time in three months, I felt nothing but happiness when I thought about being married to Evan.

I didn't sleep well that night, and the morning passed by in a blur. Lughna and Orla came over to help me get the dress on, as well as to talk one last time over the food and such. I can't really recall everything that was said; just that they were smiling and kept telling me how wonderful I looked. The wedding would be outside, as Lughna and Liam's was, but this time I chose a different spot. It took longer to get to, but I felt it was worth the extra effort. In the woods, far away from the rest of the village, there was an area where a stream ran through the ground. It fed into the lake in front of the Nietzschean household, but you couldn't see any of that from here. When I was younger I would often come to this place and pretend I was the only person in the whole world. There was a sense of peace around the trees and stream that I carried within me for the rest of my life, even when it had been years since I'd been there.

The girls and I walked to this spot in one direction, helping me to carefully keep the material, or the makeshift veil I'd added, from getting caught on the ground or in the tree branches. Orla had made a small garland of blue and yellow flowers, which she placed on my head to hold the veil. It was a nice touch, and I thanked her warmly. We moved slowly as a result of my outfit, and the men were already there when we arrived, having gone from the opposite direction. I must say that when I finally dared to look up at Evan, the expression on his face made all the hard work put into the gown worth it. As I stood in front of him, he carefully took hold of my hands, as though afraid to touch any other part of me, and simply stared as the others formed a circle around us and began to recite their speeches.

I cannot recall what the words were, though at the time I remember thinking how lovely and touching they were. Then it was my turn to make my vows, but before I could talk, Devin stepped forward and handed something to me. I turned and looked at what he held in astonishment.

"Devin, how could, where?" All the words in my head disappeared as he placed it in my hands.

"I stole it from the same Nietzschean Dad did, when I was eight, and I've been saving it for this moment." He smiled and kissed me tenderly on the cheek before stepping back into the circle. I didn't bother to try and stop the tears that ran down my face as I looked down at the flexi; it was a very old one. Something Dad had shown to me when I was little. Hands trembling, I pressed play. On the small screen, figures of humans in beautiful costumes began to dance, and music filled the small wooded area. I hugged the flexi to my chest, remembering how, when Dad had shown the recordings to me, I'd wished out loud to be able to dance like that someday.

Carefully I set the flexi down on a rock by the stream, letting the music play gently in the background, while I turned to Evan, placing my hands in his again. He was smiling now too, and he brushed a tear from my face, staring as though he'd never seen anything quite like me before. Struggling to control my voice, I began to say the words I'd spent hours practicing to say just right.

"To Evan Harper, I pledge my love and life. May both last as long as the stars. To you, I pledge my loyalty, and it shall last as long as the sun shines in the sky. To us, I pledge my happiness and health, to last as long as the Universe wills. To Evan Harper, I give my heart;" These last words were said in barely above a whisper, "to be his for all time." I finished and smiled. Somehow, as I'd spoken, my hands had gone to rest on his shoulders, while his rested around my waist. Forgetting about the other people around us, we stared into each other's eyes as he recited his vows, which were basically the same.

"To Josephine Rose Lahey..." he began. Like me, his last words were said in a whisper that only we could hear. And then we kissed. Like most human ceremonies, it was a short one, but it lasted forever in my memory. The unexpected gift of the music Devin had provided made it all the more special for me. As a new song began to play, I put one of Evan's hands on my waist, my right hand on his shoulder, and held our left hands to the side.

"What are you doing?" He asked in confusion, though still smiling.

"We're dancing," I replied. Of course, it didn't look exactly the way the people in the flexi danced, but it was similar enough. My childhood wish was fulfilled. Evan had brought his tin whistle along as well, and he played that afterwards while the rest of us danced. All in all, it was everything I could have hoped for, although it did begin to rain a few hours later. As it was only a light mist, which Evan claimed to only enhance my beauty, we didn't stop because of it.

And so, I was married. I had just turned twenty; Evan was nineteen.

We returned to the new house that had been built, which now belonged to Evan and me. I had decided to let Devin have our old home; much as I loved it, I wanted to start my life over with Evan. He showed off the hut to me in excitement; my things had already been brought over, and Liam had built us some new furniture. A new bed was also one of the gifts; and people from the village whom I had known all my life had given gifts of food. It was all too much; to my dismay, and probably to Evan's as well, I began to cry again.

"What's wrong?" He asked softly.

"Nothing; everything's fine, in fact, it's perfect," I replied, smiling through my tears. He laughed gently and hugged me, suddenly seeming older than he was.

"Can I call you Rose?" The question startled me enough to make me stop crying.

"Why do you want to call me Rose?" I asked, not quite sure what he meant by the question.

"I like the name Josephine, but I'd rather think of you as Rose, my Rose." I was quiet for a few minutes. I'd always like the name Josephine; it was a strong name, and determined. It had been in my family for generations. I had never liked Rose; it sounded weak; after all, it was the name of a flower, which now could only be found in carefully cultivated gardens belonging to the Nietzscheans.

"It's up to you. A rose by any other name would look just as good," He said softly, only mixing up the ancient proverb by a few words. It was then I remembered something else; a rose had thorns on its stem, Mom had once told me, so those who weren't careful would be cut. Suddenly I didn't mind him calling me Rose.

"It's fine with me," I replied, and he kissed me again. So I changed that day in more ways than one. I had practically become a new person; to the world I was still Josephine, if Josephine Harper rather than Lahey, as I'd chosen to take his last name, but in my private world belonging to only me and one other person, I was Rose. Life could indeed change drastically in a single moment, from a single action.

I like to think that, after everything was said and done, it had changed for the better.

Author's Note:

Ok, I'm sorry this chapter had little actually happening in it. I just felt that their wedding deserved a whole episode. After this, I'll try to make it seem less like a soap opera. But I'm also a hopeless romantic, so I can't make any promises. Well, let me know what you think, as I try and write this next episode without crying. Thanks,

Luna Sealeaf


	7. Episode Seven

**Earth's Children**

Summary: The parents of Harper tell their tale of life and love in Post-Commonwealth Earth.

Author: Luna Sealeaf

Rating: PG

Disclaimer: Again, I do not own any Andromeda characters, so don't sue me, etc. etc...

Night of stars and night of love,

Fall gently o'er the waters,

Heav'n around, below, above,

No more we'll heed the shore!

-Ancient Earth song

Episode Seven

I can't remember a time when I was so happy. For at least a week after our wedding, I felt sure that our future was secure. The Nietzscheans were gone, leaving us to live our lives, Liam and I were starting a field of crops, and the village itself would soon be self-sustaining. I remember those days as being filled with music; Josephine wanted me to play my tin whistle for her, and she would often sing when we were alone.

The days were beautiful, and almost every night the six of us would gather for dinner, sometimes sitting together for hours, just talking, telling stories, and such. Devin had finally asked Orla to marry him. She had asked for a day to consider it, just to scare him, I think, for taking so long about it, but of course she said yes. Even the work seemed pleasant. Liam was the only one who had some idea of how to farm, which left Devin and I, and sometimes one of the girls, to be field hands. Liam didn't like to talk while he worked, but Devin and I would joke and tease each other as we tried to make the soil fit for growing food. He and I had a similar humor, and we quickly became good friends.

But the happiest moments were when I was at my new house with Josephine. While I had asked if I might call her Rose, I rarely said the name out loud. In my mind I sometimes thought of her as Rose, but when I talked I usually called her by her first name. Surprisingly, not much had changed in our relationship, or at least, she still talked to me the same way she always did. One evening, about two weeks after the wedding, we were sitting on the floor in front of the small fireplace, watching the flames slowly die.

"I love you," I said softly, my arm around her, holding her close to me. When she didn't answer, I glanced down to see if she'd fallen asleep. But no, she was awake, just staring into the fire with wide eyes.

"Josephine?" I prompted softly, wondering what thoughts were in her head to make her stare at the flames with such intensity.

"What is love Evan?" She turned her face up towards me, and I was afraid I would melt under her gaze.

"When I know what love is, exactly, then I will respond the way you want me to," Then she kissed me softly on the forehead, stood, gathering the blanket around her, and left me with my troubled thoughts.

After that, something changed. I'm not sure what it was, but it was as if we were suddenly a little uncomfortable in each other's presence. However our lives continued; we woke in the morning, ate a small breakfast, and then I went to help Liam in the fields, a never ending task, while Josephine either went to the village to trade for supplies, or helped Orla and Lughna with various chores. If one of them had a moment to spare, they came to help us.

For a month or so, we were jubilant with success. In this practically barren land, the fruits (or rather, vegetables,) of our labor could be seen as the plants slowly began to grow. Even Josephine would smile broadly every time she passed the small field. It was a source of pride; as well as a representation of our hopes for the future. It was our proof that we, as humans, could survive without the Nietzscheans.

But then the rain began...and it didn't stop. When it first came, we were glad of the water; once boiled it could be used to drink or bathe in, not to mention that the moisture helped the crops. As summer dragged on though, it rained nearly every day. The humidity was almost unbearable when it wasn't raining, and many in the village came down with a fever, myself included. I awoke one morning with a deep ache in my bones, and I shivered as I tried to get out of bed.

"Evan? Are you well?" Josephine had leaned over when she saw me shaking, and laid a gentle hand on my shoulder. I tried to answer, but my throat was too dry to get any words out. Instead I stood up to get dressed, only to sit right back down as a wave of dizziness hit me.

"Rest here Evan; I'll bring you some water. Don't you dare try to get out of that bed!" my wife ordered, hurrying off to fetch me a glass of water. I was already asleep by the time she returned. I don't remember my sickness very well; I felt like I dreamed for a very long time. In reality I was only unconscious for a few days, when I awoke I was weak as a kitten. Despite my pain, and my anxiety about not being able to help with the food, it was gratifying to see how worried Josephine had been for my sake, and I enjoyed the extra attention she gave me. The thought instantly made me guilty; there were dark circles under her eyes from sitting up by my side, and during the day she'd had the usual chores, plus mine, to do, all on her own.

By the time I regained my strength, the people of Dunwich had recovered from the illness, and fall was fast approaching. As Liam, Devin, and I prepared for the harvest, we surveyed the field with despair. Many of the crops had died from too much water, what was left would barely sustain us all through the winter.

"We'll manage. We can always hunt or trade for food from the other villagers," Devin said confidently. "You'll see, we've dealt with little food before." I nodded, but Liam simply stared at the field with wretchedness written all over his face. Concerned, I touched his arm, startling him out of his thoughts.

"Don't worry Liam, next season will be better," I tried to cheer him up.

"But we need food _now_," He said softly, rubbing a hand over his tired face. Devin and I exchanged curious looks; Liam wasn't one for pessimism. He saw the confused looks on our faces, sighed, and explained.

"Lughna's with child, I'm afraid there won't be enough food for her and the babe," After expressing our congratulations, the realization of what this meant became clear.

"Don't worry Liam, we'll make sure everything's well," I promised. He nodded, accepting my words, but not really believing them. I was his little brother; he always felt it was his job to take care of us all, and not the other way around. Later that evening, Devin and I told Orla and Josephine the news.

"Evan isn't it wonderful! We'll have a little niece or nephew! Oh I can't wait," Orla hugged me excitedly, and I suddenly smiled too; I hadn't thought about it really, but the idea of being an uncle was definitely a happy one.

"Assuming Lughna gets enough food to take care of herself." Josephine said quietly, breaking the happy reverie that had fallen on me and Orla. So among the four of us we decided to take less food, in order to make sure Lughna and Liam got plenty, as they'd need their strength more than us. Afterwards Josephine and I walked home in silence, and I wondered what she thought of the news.

"I'm happy for them. Lughna will be an excellent mother," Josephine said in reply to my question. Something in her tone led me to believe she was holding a thought back, and as we entered the small house, I caught her hand and asked if anything was wrong.

"I was just wondering what it would be like to have a child, that's all," She said softly, not meeting my eyes. I smiled and drew her into a hug.

"Someday we'll have lots of children Rose. We'll start our own little community of free humans right here in Dunwich." She didn't answer, and as I bent to kiss her, she seemed to stiffen slightly. With a sigh, I turned away and got ready for bed.

Winter came early that year; snow was never much of an issue, but the cold was sharp and bitter. Day after day the skies were gray and the air frigid. I worried for Josephine's health; with little food and the lack of sunlight, she'd become pale and withdrawn. Liam had his own worries over Lughna's health, and when Devin explained how the weather was making Orla depressed, I decided it was time to do something about the gloom. One evening Devin and I snuck off towards the village, where we learned that a celebration was being planned for the winter solstice, as well as to mark the last of the Nietzscheans leaving, and the factories being closed. Although this was promising, Devin and I continued with our original plan; to see if the lake had frozen over. It hadn't quite yet, but we were glad to see that it wouldn't take long.

To pass the month until the festival, I took over the cooking to relieve Josephine of an extra chore. This turned out to be a disaster as I was a terrible cook, but Josephine enjoyed laughing at my troubles, and soon she was teaching me to prepare simply meals. The uneasiness we'd felt earlier on in our marriage had all but faded away; Josephine had become my best friend as well as my dearest love. Now I sometimes wish I had taken the time to count my blessings rather then to mourn over what we didn't have. How could I not see that I was surrounded by friends and family who loved me? My only excuse is that I was young, and the young often take things for granted.

The solstice came, and we bundled up for the small festival, bringing what food goods we could spare. Bonfires roared in the streets, and I played a few songs in the square. Several people had various musical instruments, others sang. There was food, a few contests, and much trading. For the first time in months Lughna's skin had color, and she laughed. For Liam, I think it was worth the cold just to see her having a good time. Although she was only a few months pregnant, it had already been a difficult one for her, Josephine told me secretly, and while we were in the village the girls went to see the local midwife for advice.

I was sipping a mug of hot tea with Devin when Josephine stormed up to us, Orla following behind with a worried expression.

"What's the matter?" Devin asked, taking a step closer to the bonfire we were standing by.

"That horrid old woman doesn't know what she's talking about," Josephine practically shouted. Devin and I looked to Orla for an explanation.

"Some of the remedies the midwife prescribed go against Josephine's knowledge of medicine," She said quietly, obviously uneasy about repeating what had happened.

"'Go against!' Orla, the so-called 'medicines' she told Lughna to take will either kill her or make her miscarry for sure! You don't mix those plants," She rambled on for a few minutes about something to do with herbs. Devin glanced at me, but I could only shrug. She was his sister; he ought to know her as well as I did, if not better. At last, as night fell, we made our way back to our three small homes; glad nonetheless for the brief break in the monotony of the bleak winter.

Except for a short week where we all went to the frozen lake, gliding across it and mostly making fools of ourselves, we stayed inside to wait out the cold season.

"Perhaps we should hibernate, like the animals of old used to do," Josephine joked one night, huddled in a pile of blankets by our fire. Carrying two small cups of tea, I hurried over to her side, handed her one, and pulled the blankets around myself as well.

"Ah, but we have better ways to keep warm," I said in a teasing voice, wiggling my eyebrows at her over the rim of my tea. As intended, she laughed at my silliness. We fell quiet, sipping the hot tea. (Oh how I longed for a drink of decent whiskey or beer! Liam and I had discussed making our own, but lacked the proper ingredients)

"Everything's changed so fast," She said after a moment, her voice serious.

"Yeah, I guess it has." I said in agreement. I didn't usually think about the past much; it was too depressing, but I realized that for her, things had indeed changed extremely fast. And not just her own life, but the village itself. She had grown up with the Nietzscheans ruling and the factories being the main source of income. In a few months, less than a year, Dunwich had suddenly become isolated, practically cut off from the rest of the world. It must have been unsettling, at the least, for her.

"How bout this; I promise never to change. No matter how weird things get, I'll always be the same: in love with you." I suggested, pulling the blanket around us tighter. She smiled at the suggestion, resting her head on my shoulder.

"Sounds like a plan," she replied, and we spent the rest of the night in peaceful silence.

Just when we were sure that we couldn't stand another day of winter, the first signs of spring began to show. Each day became a little warmer, the sky became a little bluer, and the sun, nigh unseen for months, was again shining brightly.

None of us wanted to remain indoors when the weather was so beautiful, and we resumed our usual group dinners outside. The laughter and light returned to Orla's eyes, Josephine filled out a bit more, and we men were simply happy to have something to do. Lughna was heavy with the pregnancy now, but her smile had returned to her face, and the girls often crowded into her room to keep her company and help with the chores. Meanwhile, Liam, Devin, and I were trying to replant the fields. For once I didn't complain about the back-breaking work; I was too happy to be outdoors again. Even Liam was grinning most of the time, clearly hopeful about the next crop, and excited about becoming a father.

For our one year anniversary, Josephine and I spent a whole day alone together. I had found a bit of wood and carved it into a rose, or what I imagined a rose to look like, and gave it to her as a present. It was a lovely day, most of which we spent talking, among other things.

Then, maybe three or four days later, Liam was working with Devin and me in the fields when Orla came racing towards us. We stopped working, afraid she had bad news.

"Liam! Lughna's giving birth!" Orla cried out, waving her arms frantically. Liam paled visibly and suddenly broke into a run. Devin and I laughed and followed Orla back up the small hill to Liam and Lughna's home.

"Out! Get out all of you, except you Orla, I may need help. The rest of you get _out_!" Josephine was already there and wouldn't let even Liam past the doorway.

"Josephine, that's my wife," Liam protested, trying to get by her. He winced as Lughna cried out from somewhere inside.

"I'm sorry Liam, but I need room to help Lughna, and she needs air to breathe, so you'll just have to wait outside." While she spoke, I came to her side and asked softly, so the others couldn't hear,

"Josephine, have you ever delivered a child before?"

"Have you?" She shot back. This was not the most reassuring answer, but as Josephine knew the most about medicines and such, there didn't seem to be a choice.

That was one of the longest days I've ever waited through. Devin suggested we go back to the fields and continue working, but Liam and I were too nervous to do anything but sit there. Every once in awhile Lughna would scream and we would watch in sympathy as Liam clasped his hands and grimaced. Orla was the only one moving; running back and forth, from hut to hut gathering supplies, sometimes pausing to place a reassuring hand on Liam's shoulder, or give an encouraging smile, before hurrying back inside to assist Josephine.

Evening came and I used my newfound cooking skills to scrape together a quick dinner for all of us. Josephine was the only one who didn't come out to eat.

"Should it be taking this long?" Liam asked more than once in a worried voice. Neither Devin nor I had any idea, so we could only shrug. Finally, Josephine stepped out of the small doorway into the night. We stood up as one, and I reached for her; she was pale, shaking, and her arms were covered in blood.

"Liam, your daughter is born." She said the words simply, but didn't move aside as Liam tried to enter the house.

"There is another child, Liam. It's going to be difficult for Lughna, so I ask that you wait here for a little longer. As soon as the second one is delivered, you can come and see them both."

"How is Lughna?" Liam asked anxiously. Josephine looked him in the eye steadily as she answered.

"I can't tell you right now. She's lost a lot of blood, and she's a small woman...I just don't know right now," she reached out to reassure him, then seemed to remember the blood covering her hands, so instead she turned and went back inside, closing the door behind her. We sat in silence for a few moments, absorbing the news she had brought. None of us wanted to talk, but we couldn't let Liam dwell on his worry for Lughna.

"A little girl eh? Have you discussed names yet?" I finally asked, trying to sound cheerful.

"Yes, if it was a girl, Lughna wanted to name her Siobhan, after her mother." He fell silent, and no one said anything else for a long time. I was determined to stay awake as the night wore on, and my fear for Lughna's health helped keep me awake. Then, an hour before dawn, Josephine came back outside, and this time there was a tired smile on her face. As she opened the door we could hear a child's cry. Liam practically leapt to his feet.

"Congratulations Liam; you have a healthy baby boy as well as a girl. Lughna will recover. You may go see them now." She moved away just in time as Liam ran inside. Devin wandered in to see Orla, and I moved to Josephine could sit down.

"If you can let Orla handle things, you should go and get some rest." I told her gently. I could see the exhaustion filling her eyes. I helped her to get cleaned up, and then made sure she went to sleep, before finally going to see my niece and nephew. Lughna was sleeping inside, Orla and Devin were carrying bundles of soiled sheets out to be washed, and Liam was holding the two children in his arms. He looked up and smiled when he heard me enter.

"They're beautiful," Liam said softly. I walked over to look at them closely. "The boy's name is Declan. Aren't they amazing?" I stayed with him for a few minutes, but my own feelings were quickly becoming overwhelmed with exhaustion, and I went to join Josephine in sleep.

The children, or 'bairns' as Liam and even I sometimes called them, were strong for all that they were so small. Lughna slowly regained her strength, and all in all the two were delighted with their son and daughter. It was not a completely happy ending though; Josephine told them both that it was unlikely Lughna would have any more children, that if she did become pregnant, another hard birth like that would most likely kill her. They were too happy to care much at the time, neither of them thinking of future children for the moment. We were all caught up in helping Liam and Lughna with the babies. Orla was absolutely in love with them, telling Devin in no uncertain terms that she wanted children of her own someday.

I was just as taken as the others, making small toys for them whenever I had time to spare, and often volunteering to help watch them. I had never been around babies before, and it was an amazing experience. Josephine was always so tender with them, as though afraid they would break if handled too roughly. Seeing how happy Liam and Lughna were made me want to be a father, and I began bringing the subject up with Josephine more often. She wasn't quite as enthused by the conversations, and I sometimes got a little short tempered with her.

"I thought you wanted kids," I said in a rather accusing tone of voice. We were alone in the house and Josephine had been mending our clothes.

"I do. Or I did. I'm not so sure anymore." She set the cloth down and stared at the floor.

"What changed your mind?" I asked incredulously; surely seeing our niece and nephew would have had the same effect on Josephine as it had on Orla.

"Look Evan, I know Orla and Lughna can't stop talking about babies and all that, but neither of them seem to remember the night Lughna gave birth. I do. It was terrifying; Lughna nearly died. The children nearly died. What's changed my mind? Fear. I don't want to die," She stood up, raising her voice in anger, but at her last words she started crying and turned away from me. I felt terrible and went to comfort her, but she shrugged my hands away and went to our bedroom. I guess I hadn't really thought about it, but if it was a question between having kids or having Josephine, my choice was clearly Josephine.

The summer passed in a blur of unexpected happiness. The crops were growing wildly, Siobhan and Declan grew stronger and healthier with each day, and the rest of us watched them with pride and joy. Autumn came, but it was longer than last year's season, and this time there was a much more substantial harvest, which was good seeing as how there were two more mouths to feed. The days didn't become cold until late November, as though to make up for last year's early winter. All in all this season was much easier than the last, and it went by faster than the last winter as well. I think part of the reason was due to the extra food, but our good moods were mainly due to the two babies, who provided us with much amusement through those long winter nights. We'd crowd into Liam and Lughna's hut, share food, talking, the usual, and watch the two babies playing and laughing. With such entertainment, the days almost went by too quickly. There was no news from the outside world, and Dunwich was becoming more independent each and every day. Things were practically perfect.

Sometimes I think Josephine would still dwell on the warning given to her by the Nietzschean woman a year ago, but she almost never shared her concerns with me.

One late afternoon in spring, just after our second anniversary, I found her standing outside, looking out over the landscape as though trying to figure out a puzzle. I walked up behind her, and she still didn't notice my presence. Or at least, I thought she hadn't, until suddenly she broke the silence.

"Something's different," She said softly, still staring out at the world.

"What do you mean? A lot is different..." I trailed off, confused by her words. She shook her head slightly.

"No, something...else...isn't right," She sounded so worried that I slipped an arm around her waist, leaned against her and tried to understand her thoughts. As usual they eluded me. We were quiet for a few minutes, and finally I asked,

"Is there something else on your mind?" She smiled, turning to face me, but the smile wasn't one of gladness.

"Earlier today, I was beginning to rethink my views on having children,"

"Oh? I was wondering why you left Devin and Orla's so soon." I waited for her to continue, knowing she wasn't finished.

"Yes, well, it occurred to me that I may not have a choice when it comes to having children." I admit to being confused by her words, so I didn't say anything as she went on.

"Orla told me that she thinks she's pregnant." I was about to say something, surprised at the news, but Josephine cut me off, "She's not positive, so she doesn't want to say anything until she's sure. But it made me think, Evan; Lughna and Liam were married for less than a year when she got pregnant, and Orla and Devin haven't been together for as long as we have. We've been together for two years now and..." I knew where her thoughts were going, and I quickly stopped her from continuing.

"Josephine, Liam and Lughna were together for a year before they got married, and who knows how long Devin and Orla..." I suddenly frowned, not wanting to think about my sister and Devin, "Anyway, I'm sure you have nothing to worry about Josephine. If we're meant to have kids, then we'll have them."

"I guess you're right," She said softly.

"And I know how much it pains you to admit it," This earned me a smile, and I convinced her to stop worrying about it. Spring was always her favorite time of the year, and I suppose that for a while she was able to keep her disturbing thoughts away. Siobhan and Declan were a year old now, and they were becoming little people rather than just babies; starting to talk and developing individual personalities. They held our attention most of the time.

"I didn't know they grew so fast," Lughna commented one day as we watched her two children chasing each other in a game that only they understood. I have to admit it was a beautiful sight, and I could tell that Lughna and Liam were beginning to remember their dilemma, now that the twins were growing older. They had both wanted a big family, but it seemed unlikely that it was meant to be.

The crops were again beginning to grow when Orla confirmed her belief; Devin was ecstatic, though also terribly frightened, he told me one evening, but all of us were looking forward to more children in our large family. Josephine began fussing over Orla's health; I knew she was worried about her, but my sister was taller and stronger than Lughna, and I felt confident that she would be ok. So another lazy summer began. Later I would look back and be amazed at how quickly the times had passed, but I suppose when your life is good and peaceful, the days tend to go by faster than when each day is a battle.

Still, our time of peace didn't last long. The outside world hadn't disappeared; it had merely left us alone for a time. Towards the end of the summer, people began to worry over reports that Magog attacks had increased around the world. Josephine however, remained unconcerned.

"They attacked once, more than a decade ago, but Earth isn't a small planet; what are the odds that they'll attack here again so soon?" For the most part, we agreed with her, but the talk kept us from enjoying the fall harvest time as much as we had the year before. When reports came of Magog attacking as near as New York, panic began to spread. Some families had already decided to move to the Refugee Camps, and the six of us were even considering the option. Liam soon dismissed the thought; the idea that our peaceful lives could be interrupted was unthinkable. So winter came and we all continued with our peaceful existence.

Then one morning I awoke to an awful sound; Josephine was retching into a water bucket in the other room. Concerned, for she never got sick, I quickly got out of bed and went to see what was wrong. I had rested a hand on her back and was trying to soothe her with comforting words, when to my surprise, she turned around and laughed.

"Josephine, what's wrong, are you sick?" I tried to press a hand to her cheek, but she brushed it away impatiently.

"Evan, I'm fine,"

"You don't look it," I said in disbelief. Judging by her broad smile, she had a pretty high fever that was making her delusional...

"Evan, I'm going to have a baby!" She announced, standing to throw her arms around me in a hug. We embraced for several minutes as I tried to understand the meaning of her words. When it finally made sense, a smile threatened to split my face in two. And then she said the words I'd waited nearly three years to hear.

"I love you so much,"

And with those words, our formerly happy, peaceful world began to end. Proof, if ever it was needed, that the Universe loves jokes, especially when they're on us.

Author's Note:

Wow, this was a long episode! But then a lot happened. I hope it didn't feel too rushed. I can't thank everyone enough for their kind reviews! You guys rock! One more episode, I think, and then the real fun can begin. Mwahahahahaha. All this was really just a prologue. Granted, a really long prologue...anyway, I'd enjoy the warm and fuzzy moments while you can. Ok, me out. Thanks for reading,

Luna Sealeaf


	8. Episode Eight

**Earth's Children**

Summary: The parents of Harper tell their tale of life and love in Post-Commonwealth Earth.

Author: Luna Sealeaf

Rating: PG

Disclaimer: Again, I do not own any Andromeda characters, so don't sue me, etc. etc...

"I have often heard Nietzscheans brag about their love, as a species, for their children. But how many of their children brag about their love for their parents?"

-Queen Urthra Nadeer, 'Conversations with Foreign Dignitaries' CY 8693

Episode Eight

Years later, Evan and I would sometimes talk about how happy we were; back in those peaceful days of Dunwich. Of course, there was little point to such conversations. We couldn't change the past, nor could we go back in time, no matter how much we might wish to. But in those days my thoughts were not filled with bitter regrets; no, my mind was almost constantly with the child I carried...

"What about Connor?"

"No,"

"Patrick's a good name,"

"_Evan_," I whirled around, trying to keep my face and voice calm. "I already told you, we are _not _discussing names until the baby is born."

"But that's impractical Josephine! We ought to at least narrow the choices down,"

"I can't name something, or someone, until I've seen them. I'm sorry Evan. Give it up."

"Fine, fine..." With a sulky air Evan walked ahead of me, hands in pockets and kicking at stones along the path. I sighed and couldn't resist rolling my eyes. How could I even think of having a child, when my hands were already full taking care of one big baby?

For two months now, ever since I had told Evan the good news, he'd been pestering me about names, asking me whether I thought it was a boy or a girl, going on about the things he'd teach it...basically driving me to distraction. I didn't have time to sit around and daydream about being a mother, there was too much work to do. Winter was halfway over and our food supplies were beginning to dwindle. The two little ones, Siobhan and Declan, didn't eat much, but they were still two extra mouths to feed. Thus the expedition I was on now, with Evan, searching for anything edible that could be found here in the forest.

It'd be nice if I weren't the only pregnant woman around here who still had enough wits about her to do something useful. Orla, a few months ahead of me, had spent most of her time sighing and talking to anyone who'd listen about how happy she was that she was going to be a mother. My little brother only encouraged her, running around in circles like a chicken with its head cut off anytime she requested something.

Lately I had found myself irritated at a lot. Something Evan, in his oh-so-keen observations, hadn't failed to notice. He'd learned quickly enough to not disturb or argue with me. Liam was the only one who I could stand to be around for long periods of time. For that I envied Lughna; at least her husband wouldn't shirk his chores by staring at the ground and muttering under his breath.

"Evan, I swear I'll name our child Quigley –boy or girl- if you don't start helping me look for food and stop sulking," He winced, turned and gave me one of his pitiful looks.

"You wouldn't!" He said accusingly, and I noticed a hint of panic.

"So help me I will!" We glared at each other for a few minutes, before collapsing into laughter, neither exactly sure what we were talking about any longer. I walked over to him, hands held out, and smiled pleasantly while he clasped my hands. He opened his mouth to say something, when a sharp pain in my stomach made me gasp out loud and fall to my knees.

"Josephine! What's wrong?" In an instant Evan was kneeling in front of me, gripping my shoulders. I saw dots as another sharp pain ran through me. I tried to answer, but words were beyond my capability at the moment, and instead I collapsed against him.

I suppose Evan must have carried me back to the house, but the next thing I remember is hearing voices.

"I don't know what to do,"

"Maybe we should get someone from the village,"

"Let's wait and see if she wakes up on her own,"

"Gods, _do_ something! We can't just sit here!"

"Be patient Evan, she's breathing normally, I don't think she's dying,"

Slowly I opened my eyes; colors and shapes were hovering around me, but slowly they focused into people. Devin, Orla, Evan, and Liam were standing around me anxiously.

"Josephine, can you hear me?" Liam asked in a clear voice, saying each word slowly.

"Yes," I tried to sit up, but didn't have the strength. "I, I collapsed,"

"Do you know what's wrong?" Orla asked anxiously. "Was it the baby?"

Carefully I shook my head. The pain I'd felt earlier seemed to have moved to my head, and thoughts were taking a long time to connect.

"It's impossible; it's only been two, maybe three, months. The child isn't fully formed yet," I tried to explain. Other words were said, but I was overcome with sleepiness and soon drifted off again.

In the end, no one had any idea what was wrong with me. My greatest fear was that somehow whatever was causing these pains would injure the child. The others ordered me to rest, and I wasn't allowed to be alone. So while Evan went out with Devin and Liam to work (I believe they were attempting to build furniture to have something to trade with in the village) Lughna would bring the two kids and keep me company while doing her own chores. Even Orla was on her feet, despite the fact that she could give birth practically at any time. I managed to escape the small room for a breath of fresh air a few times, disliking this confinement. Still, my niece and nephew, now going on two, helped to distract me from my boredom immensely. It didn't cease to surprise me that these two children, unrelated to me by blood, could mean so much to me. To be sure they were adorable; they had their father's dark blue eyes and their mother's gold-red hair, and smiles to melt ones heart. They would certainly be spoiled, if they weren't already, as they grew older.

A month passed in this idle winter, all of us waiting for spring. The pains still came regularly, but I didn't pass out again, and my child seemed to remain healthy. Evan was constantly worrying over my health, despite my reassurances to him. I admit that I was scared too, but since there wasn't anything anyone could do, I tried not to think about it.

And then one night, just as the crickets had returned and we were celebrating the coming of spring, Orla went into labor. Liam and Evan were in the village at the time, so it was up to Devin and Lughna to assist her inside. It was a good thing I wasn't nearly as far along as Orla, or else I wouldn't have been able to assist her. For the first few hours things went smoothly –although I doubt poor Orla would agree with that- Lughna and I shooed Devin outside while we prepared the room, giving him Siobhan and Declan to keep an eye on.

"Whatever happens, make sure my baby's all right," Orla gasped, sweat already starting to form on her face. Lughna, too preoccupied with starting a fire didn't hear her, but I patted Orla on the arm in an attempt to comfort her.

"Don't be ridiculous, you're going to be fine,_ both_ of you," I smiled and she nodded, gripping my arm for a moment. For a second I did feel panicked; Orla had become as close as any sister to me, to lose her was unthinkable. Before such thoughts could take hold I banished them from my mind and instead concentrated on what had to be done.

Nearly an hour later there was a commotion outside and the door opened. I was about to snap at whomever it was, but before I could the person –Evan, began to speak.

"Quick we gotta get everyone into hiding!" His eyes were wild with fear and before I could even think of a reply Liam and Devin trampled inside as well.

"Slavers are raiding the village, they could come here any time, and we have to hide." Liam ordered as Devin moved to help carry his poor wife.

"We can't just move her, she's giving birth!" I argued, there words not making any sense to me. No one listened; Devin scooped Orla up and went outside, Lughna already having run out to collect her two children, and Evan quickly took me by the arm and started to lead me outside.

"Where can we hide?" Lughna was struggling to remain calm, clutching each child to her side as she questioned Liam.

"The food cellar!" I answered suddenly. Liam nodded and we quickly began to head for the fields. In an effort to keep our food hidden from scavenging animals, we had built a cellar into one of the hills. As long as we took care to cover the door, there was no way to tell that it wasn't just a mound of grass and dirt. In any case, it was our best chance.

No one spoke as we crowded inside, Orla doing her best to stifle her moans, as Evan and Liam adjusted the bushes outside to block the view of the door. They slipped in with little disturbance and we prepared for a very long night.

"Are you sure they'll even come here?" Devin asked softly, caressing Orla's hair. Leaning over him, Evan clutched her hand in sympathy.

"There's no way of telling, but we can't be too careful," Liam replied.

"They could have picked a better night," I muttered. "Well move over, this baby isn't going to wait for the Nietzscheans to leave before it's born!" We pushed the boys up front to give Lughna and me more room with Orla. The twins had fallen asleep; Siobhan in Liam's lap, Declan in Evan's, so the only source of unwanted noise would come from Orla herself. Orla's pain was hard on us all; though strong, she was also the sweetest one of us, always putting others before her own needs. As Evan's twin sister, and Liam's younger one, as well as Devin's wife, the worry between them for her well-being was almost a tangible thing.

I will never forget that long, tiring night. Cramped for space, Lughna and I were elbow to elbow, while Orla gritted her teeth and muffled her cries as much as she could. The men stayed as silent as they could, huddling by the door and listening for any sounds not belonging to the usual ones of night. Soaked with sweat, and feeling the usual exhaustion that came with extremely tense situations, I forced myself to stay focused for Orla's sake. In comparison, it was an easier birth, physically, than Lughna's had been, much shorter if nothing else, and after only maybe five hours, at most, of labor, Orla gave birth to a baby boy. The door was opened just a crack to let in fresh air as we attempted to get Orla and her child situated. We hadn't thought to grab supplies, and Devin bravely ducked out before we could stop him, returning a few minutes later with clean clothes, water, and even some of my medicinal herbs. Although I scolded him for his recklessness, I was also proud of my brother. Lughna wrapped the squalling baby in a blanket and handed him to Devin, who stared at the tiny child with utter amazement.

Trivial matters such as names or congratulations had to wait until morning. By the time the sun had risen, we were all so desperate for open space, that I think we would have braved slavers just to leave that cellar. One by one everyone stumbled into the morning light, Evan holding me upright tightly, for after the stress of last night's events I was feeling very weak. We all headed for our beds, Lughna going to help Orla, deciding that after a few hours of sleep we could meet again to look at the new baby.

Although concerned for my health; he insisted I looked pale and that there were dark circles under my eyes, I refused Evan's plea to remain at home and rest in order to go and see my nephew. Our nephew actually; the baby was related to both of us. Orla brought the baby outside, so we wouldn't have to crowd into the small house to see it. We all sat or stood in the center of our small family compound, looking down at Devin and Orla's son. When it was my turn to hold him I could almost feel my heart wrench; here was the child of my only brother, whom I had practically raised by myself. It was definitely a touching a moment.

"His name is Brendan, Brendan Lahey," Orla announced proudly, a smile lighting up her face as well as Devin's.

"What, no middle name?" I asked in mild surprise. Orla shrugged,

"I never had a use for one," She answered.

"So what do you think of your son, Devin James Lahey?" I teased my brother. He leaned over Orla's shoulder to trace his son's cheek with one finger.

"I think he's a miracle," he replied. We laughed, and I felt Evan slip an arm around my shoulder, no doubt already counting down the days until I too gave birth. The twins ran around, laughing and shrieking happily, not really understanding what was going on, even though Lughna told them they might look at their cousin.

Despite our joy at Brendan's arrival, other matters didn't escape our attention for long. Why had slavers attacked Dunwich? Or rather, why _now_? At least 30 people had been taken from last night's raid. Devin and I were as dumbfounded as the others when we heard the news.

"I don't get it, there have_ never_ been slave raids here," Devin said as Liam reported the information.

"Devin's right, they've always used the people up at the camps," I added, seeing the doubtful looks cross the others' faces.

"Well, I guess you can never have too many slaves," Liam said darkly. We were silent, not knowing what to say. This would certainly affect, probably even change, our lives, but we didn't know what we could do about it. In the end, it was Lughna who finally suggested building underground chambers, three separate ones, that only we would be able to find. If slavers came out this far from the village and found our houses and field empty, they would (hopefully) assume we'd run into the woods. It was a good plan, as well as the only one, so we spent the next few weeks digging and building.

The recent turmoil didn't help my own health, and the pains I'd been experiencing increased. Still, seeing Brendan, and of course the twins, had me looking forward to the day I could hold my own child in my arms. Evan was excited too, but I think seeing Orla's birth had him fearing a little more for me. I wasn't as petite as Lughna, but I was shorter than Orla, and these mysterious pains scared him as much as they scared me.

The day after our cellar was finished and we'd tested it, Evan suggested he and I go for a walk. It was the middle of summer and after a hard day of work in the heat; we all liked to take turns going out into the cooler evenings. Still cautious about Nietzscheans attacking, we didn't plan on going to the village, or very far into the woods, for that matter. Since I was (roughly) seven months pregnant, the others encouraged me to stay at home and rest, but I wasn't about to pass up the chance on getting to go somewhere outside that wasn't the immediate pathways between our three homes.

"Josephine, be careful," Orla held Brendan in her arms tightly and was giving me a worried look. Usually her constant worrying over me was annoying, but seeing how earnest she looked, I smiled warmly and gave her a light hug.

"I'll be fine; we're only going for a short walk. The fresh air and exercise will be good for me, you'll see." She didn't smile back, but gave me a slight nod.

"Where shall we go?" Evan asked in a cheerful voice as we entered the forest. I looked up at the sky, seeing clouds gather, and I gripped his hand tighter.

"Let's not go too far, it looks like it'll rain soon," He looked up as well and agreed with me. So we continued along the small path, hand in hand, smiling at each other and only talking occasionally. I decided that while we were out here, I might as well replenish my herb supply, so we began looking for the plants I needed. He and I made a game of it, (albeit an easy game, since I couldn't move quickly or bend over easily) and we didn't notice how dark it had gotten until I suggested we returned home. We could see one another easily, but making out the path was a little more difficult. Neither of us was too concerned; we hadn't gone very far out, and our moods were lightened by the promise of rain which would be a welcome relief after a week of dry, hot weather.

Just as we had started along the path, the first sharp pain began, just as it had all those months before, when it had again just been Evan and I alone in these woods. But something was different this time.

"Evan?" I cried out weakly as another pain threatened to rip me in two. At the sound of my faint voice, Evan turned and was soon at my side.

"Shh, we're almost home," He said soothingly, trying to help me walk. Another pain, worse than the ones before, and then a strange sensation between my legs. I cried out, the sound echoing through the trees, as I realized what was happening. _No_, I thought in a panic, _it was too soon!_ When I didn't get back to my feet Evan became even more worried, kneeling beside me and trying to understand what was going on.

"The baby, Evan, its coming, early," I squeezed my eyes shut as pain made it difficult to think. At my words Evan gripped my hand tighter and asked in a scared voice,

"Josephine, what should I do?" Before I could try and answer him, he stood up. "I'll go get Lughna and Orla," Almost at the exact same time a peal of thunder boomed, and a second later rain began to pour down from the skies. The thought of being left alone in this dark place and in such pain filled me with a fear I've never experienced before, and I gripped at Evan's leg.

"No, don't leave me," I gasped out the words, crying openly now, terror and pain beginning to take hold of my senses.

"Ok Rose, Ok, I'm here, everything'll be fine," again he went to his knees, holding me head of the ground, and clutching my right hand. The rain was quickly turning the ground to mud and we were both soon soaking wet. Another clap of thunder, and then lightning, helped me focus enough to explain what was going to happen to Evan. I actually felt sorry for him at the moment; the pain was beginning to numb my mind, and in this strangely detached state I noticed that he looked absolutely terrified. I think I even tried to smile at him, but soon my world had narrowed to myself, pain, and the child that was trying to be born. Somehow Evan must have understood my hurried instructions to him, or perhaps he had watched us during Orla's birth, but in the end I didn't die, so he must have done something right.

While I wasn't fully conscious for much of my labor, a mercy, in my opinion, I do remember a very strange experience. For a time it felt like I was dreaming, and the images that I saw would haunt me for the rest of my life. Across my eyes they seemed to dance, or float, or something: a beautiful young woman, who at first I thought might be my future daughter since she looked a lot like Evan, but no; there were differences. She smiled and called out a name, and then was gone. Stars now; was I staring at the night sky? Then a tall man with a deep voice, firm but reassuring, strong in every sense of the word, reaching towards me, or perhaps giving an order. Other images, some too horrific to bear, others confusing but happy. The last picture was of a strange being, surely not human; shifting from purple to gold to every color in between. She was trying to tell me something; something about waking up, but I couldn't hear her very well. Then she disappeared, a brightly burning sun in her place, making me blink. For less than a second, I was looking down at myself on the ground in the rain, before opening my eyes and listening to Evan talk, first to himself, and then to me.

I never told anyone about what I saw during that labor, and when I asked Orla, she told me nothing like that had happened to her. Lughna, on the other hand, said that she too had felt an out-of-body sensation, but wouldn't go into details. They were probably just figments of my mind -driven to do strange things by my near death experience.

As Evan continued to babble in near hysteria, probably sure that I was dead or dying, the pain that had disappeared slowly returned. I screamed suddenly, startling myself and my poor husband. He was shouting at me, but the words were muffled by the rain and thunder. A few minutes later, through the daze that was engulfing me, I thought I heard a child cry. _Ah, the baby's ok. That's good then..._and slowly I slipped back into darkness.

My next thoughts were ones of confusion. Where was I? Was I alive or dead?

The second question was quickly answered as I felt my eyes open. It was déjà vu in every sense of the word: Again I was lying in my bed, surrounded by people. This time it wasn't just Orla, Devin, and Evan. Liam and Lughna were there was well, everyone's faces taught with worry. Not sure what I should do, I said the first thing that came to mind:

"Hello?" The others burst into laughter and Evan, tears in his eyes, gave me a fierce kiss.

"Leave off Evan; can't you see she can't breathe?" Devin said in a tone somewhere between friendly joking and serious protectiveness.

"I'm fine. What happened?" The memories all came back in a rush that hurt my head. "Where's my baby?" Orla quickly helped me to sit up before I hurt myself, and Evan was grinning now, face practically glowing.

"He's doing fine Josephine, against all the odds; it seems that you're both doing fine." Slowly I began to smile too.

"Let me see him," I had a son, the thought gleefully ran through my body. "I want to hold him," I repeated.

"All right, but you have to be careful Josephine, you're still very weak," Lughna said sternly, then ducked out of the room.

"What happened?" I asked again as she left. The others sat down around the bed, apparently having been here for awhile.

"We were worried when the two of you didn't return after the storm began. Liam and Devin went out looking for you." Orla explained.

"I can't tell you how glad I was to see them," Evan cut in, his hand now fingering a strand of my hair as though to reassure him that I was indeed alive. "I didn't have the slightest idea what to do, and I was sure you and the baby were dead."

"Well they nearly were. But Liam carried you home," –No easy task in the state I had been, I thought to myself with an amused smile- "And Devin gave his shirt to cover up the baby."

"Which you can keep, by the way," He added, grinning. I smiled and held out a hand to my brother, who took it lovingly in both of his.

"We were so relieved to find that both you and your son were alive. With any luck, he'll continue to live," Liam spoke up for the first time, smiling as well. I lay there quietly for a few moments, soaking up the wonderful feeling that was flowing through me. Lughna returned then, a bundle in her arms, and Siobhan and Declan at her side. They pounced on the bed when they saw me, and in their high, two year old voices, they exclaimed,

"Aunt Wose! Aunt Wose!" Smiling and giving me tight hugs. Neither could say my full name right, so Evan suggested they try pronouncing my middle name. While the single syllable word was easier, they were having trouble with the letter 'r'. I hugged and smiled both of them, realizing just then how much and how quickly they had grown, before turning to Lughna with open arms. Carefully she laid the bundle into my arms, and I looked down, for the first time, at my baby boy. Evan leaned over to see him, and I shifted so he could look easier.

"I bet you're wishing we'd thought up names _now_," he said softly. Instead, I shook my head.

"I already had names ready, I just didn't want to argue over them with you," As Evan gaped at me, I said, loud enough for the others to hear.

"First of all, small though he is, this boy _will_ live. He has a great destiny. I will live too. Secondly, his name is Seamus Zelazny Harper." There was a moment of silence as everyone took in my words, and then the perfect, tableau-like scene was interrupted by Evan's indignant,

"Where on earth did you come up with the name 'Zelazny'?" He asked. I scowled and looked over at him.

"It was my father's middle name. It was supposed to be Devin's middle name too, but Mom wanted James instead. Do you have a problem with it?" My eyes dared him to argue, but Evan smiled meekly and instead leaned over to kiss his son's forehead.

"Welcome home Seamus Zelazny Harper. Here's your first lesson in life: never try to argue with a woman." I wanted to look annoyed, but my frown wouldn't hold. A smile cracked my face, and then laughter. Everyone else soon joined in, the sound put my mind, and heart, at ease. What I had said earlier was true; Seamus would live. I would see to that.

If only it were not such a difficult promise to keep.

Author's Note:

While I was writing this I got a really bad headache, and since it still hasn't gone away, I'm just going to post this after an automatic spelling/grammar check. Since the other option is to wait until my headache goes away and I have time to post it, I hope you'll forgive any minor mistakes in wording or spelling. I'm glad everyone's enjoying this, you reviewers are awesome! I'll have the next episode coming as soon as I can. Thanks,

Luna Sealeaf


	9. Episode Nine

**Earth's Children**

Summary: The parents of Harper tell their tale of life and love in Post-Commonwealth Earth.

Author: Luna Sealeaf

Rating: PG

Disclaimer: Again, I do not own any Andromeda characters, so don't sue me, etc. Nor do I own the lyrics of the songs both parents sing. I'm not making any profit, and since my total life savings accumulates to a whopping 24 bucks, there's really no point in suing me.

Archive: It didn't occur to me before, but if anyone wants to they can. I dunno where this fic would fit in though...

"Humans are so caught up in their emotions for one another that they seldom have time or energy for anything else. Such as defending their planets."

-Unknown (believed to be Nietzschean) AFC 104

Episode Nine

My first few days of fatherhood were tiring, but good. Once Josephine was able to walk around we returned to our own house. I remember how we'd lay the baby down on the bed and simply stare at him, adoring every part of him. Seamus? Where had Josephine come up with the names? It wasn't bad; though I was a little disgruntled that she didn't bother to discuss names with me. I was too relieved that both she and the child were recovering to care too much. For awhile, during her labor, I was certain I had lost her. It was the most terrifying moment of my life.

That first night with just the two –no, _three_ of us, is still embedded in my memory. The baby was crying and I was afraid he would disturb his mother, who was resting on our bed. Since he had come earlier than expected, all he had was a pile of blankets to sleep on. Awkwardly I picked him up, trying to understand why he was making so much noise.

"He's probably just tired," Josephine called weakly from the other room. I nodded, accepting her knowledge, and shifted so the baby rested in the crook of my arm. My son. The thought still boggled me.

"How come he doesn't just go to sleep?" I wondered out loud, aware (not for the first time) of just how little I knew about children.

"Because he's a baby Evan. Most babies don't know they're tired." The weariness in her voice worried me, and I closed the door to our room, hoping this would stifle the child's cries to her ears. A thought occurred to me, and it brought a shy smile to my face. To be honest, I didn't really know what I was doing, but perhaps, well, it was worth a try, right? So after taking a deep breath, and trying very hard to not feel like an idiot, I started to sing the lullaby my parents had once sung to me:

"Looking down through a tide of no return, lies a field where the crops no longer grow. Parched is the land, strangled and be damned, there for the grace of God go I..."

I continued singing the words softly, and by the time I'd finished, his eyes had closed and he appeared to be asleep. For a moment I just looked down at him, still amazed how tiny he was. Carefully I lay him back down among the blankets before returning to the bedroom, where Josephine was staring at me with a strange look on her face.

"What?" I asked as I undressed, trying to look nonchalant.

"What kind of lullaby is _that_?" She folded her arms incredulously.

"What's wrong with it?" I asked, a little defiantly

"You'll depress him with words like that!" She answered hotly. I shrugged and decided it was probably best to simply not answer.

The next day I was excused from working in the fields so that I could take care of Josephine and Seamus. Throughout the day the others came by to poke their head inside and ask how the baby was doing. Orla stopped by for a time, bringing Brendan with her and laying him down by Seamus. As the girls talked, I stared at the two children, and suddenly laughed. Josephine and Orla halted their conversation to give me a worried look.

"I just realized something," I explained in an attempt to assure them of my sanity, "Brendan and Seamus, they're practically brothers. Think about it, they're cousins on both sides of their families." They agreed and exchanged smiles. It was a little strange, but the thought gladdened me. Later that night, as Seamus was crying (again) Josephine gathered him in her arms and started to sing softly. I had been working on his cradle and looked up.

"Well let's hear it then. If my lullaby was so depressing, what are _you_ singing?" Josephine ignored me except to raise her voice so I could hear her.

"The moon-cradle's rocking and rocking, where a cloud and a cloud go by. Silently rocking and rocking, the moon-cradle out in the sky...

But the bond woman down by the boorie, sings with a heart grown wild. How a hundred rivers are flowing between herself and her child..."

The song was beautiful, I'll admit that, and it certainly sent the baby to sleep. But I failed to see how it was any happier than my song. As usual, Josephine felt no need to explain her reasoning to me, and we agreed to alternate lullabies each night.

The days passed quickly, faster than I could have anticipated. Between the new baby, as well as my nephews and niece, and bringing in the harvest, it was no wonder that there was little time for anything else. One night that I remember clearly was when I came home to find the cradle I'd started completed and rocking gently in front of the fire.

"Who had time to make it?" I asked, going over the fine handiwork. It was as good, if not better than the design I had planned to make. Josephine was sitting on a stool by the fireplace, and she grinned at my admiration.

"I did of course. There wasn't anything else to do when he was sleeping," I looked over at my wife in surprise.

"I didn't know you could make things like this," She shrugged modestly, no doubt suppressing the urge to gloat for my benefit.

"My Dad taught me a lot of stuff before he died. Besides, it wasn't that hard to figure out." I shook my head in wonderment at my wife. It turned out that she had quite a talent for woodwork; while I was out in the fields with Liam and Devin; she often fixed up the house or made other small gadgets. As she regained her strength however, she had little time for such extra activities. Fall came and as always there was the work preparing for winter. The twins, now nearing three years old, were constantly running around as we were outside. Siobhan delighted in picking grass, declaring them 'flowers' and presenting the bouquet to the nearest person she could find, or going to sprinkle the plants on one of the babies' foreheads. Declan, quieter than his sister, tried to imitate his father as he worked.

Liam had made him a small shovel and a few other tools, and the little boy would quietly find a patch of ground and copy whatever his father was doing. Liam would pretend not to notice, but the smile that softened his face was visible to all of us. Although Lughna loved the two children to no end, she also offered to watch Brendan and Seamus often. The wistful looks she gave them were heart-wrenching. We all knew she wanted more children of her own, but that she wouldn't be able to. Still, for the most part, the winter, and then the spring, passed by with happiness and cheer. Siobhan's bossiness made us all grin, and Declan's silent rebellion against his older sister provided us with much amusement. The babies too were growing, Brendan practically a year old and Seamus growing more each day.

Surely my memory, dimmed by age, has dulled the sharper reality of our lives back then. I'm sure there were days of worry and exhaustion, days when one of us fell ill. But it's hard to recall those moments, for they passed quickly. The only thing that marred that year of happiness was when reports of Nietzschean raids would send us to the small underground chambers in fear. As spring came, more reports of Magog attacks swept through the village as well.

But even these had little affect on us; our small sphere of peace and happiness seemed nigh impossible to broach. If only that had been the truth.

None of us were overly concerned; Josephine herself was confident, assured by some strange vision or feeling that Seamus would grow to adulthood.

"You'll see Evan; our son's going to survive. I won't allow anything to change that," She lifted him, now almost eight months old into the air and cooed at him softly. Her words, strangely enough, sent a chill through me.

"You shouldn't speak of such things. It'll bring bad luck," I said softly, watching as Seamus laughed with delight at being in the air. Still, I was relieved at how strong he'd grown in the past few months. His eyes had cleared as he'd grown, and they were now a bright blue, similar to my own. The curls of his hair were a dirty blonde, dark at the roots and growing lighter towards the edge. Sometimes, I would wonder to myself if I'd live to see him grow up. These thoughts tormented me; faith battling my logic. I was only twenty-four, not a child, but still young, at least by the old Commonwealth standards. How old were my parents when they were killed? And that was in the isolated hills of Ireland. Josephine's parents had died when she was just ten. Lughna's parents had died when she was just a child as well, though she didn't speak of the details. To stop the tirade of these thoughts, I would close my eyes and force myself to concentrate on the present. I had my strength and my health. There was no reason why I shouldn't live to see my grandchildren. None at all.

So a year passed; we celebrated Seamus' first birthday with a picnic, making an overall holiday of it. I played my tin whistle and everyone danced, just as they had Liam and mine's wedding. Only this time, little Declan and Siobhan joined in, holding their parents' hands and trying to mimic their steps. To the side, Brendan and Seamus sat on a blanket spread out over the grass, watching their parents and aunts and uncles, laughing though they were too young to understand what was going on.

This was perhaps, my favorite memory to look back on. The sunshine making the day bright and clear; the happy faces of my brother and sister, as well as Devin and Lughna. My beautiful Josephine, turning and dancing with a grace I would never have. The little ones all at peace, happy and content.

With such a beautiful day, how could any of us portend the dark shadow that would fall over my family? Surely it was impossible that we wouldn't spend every Midsummer Day like this, together and whole.

But as harvest time passed, Siobhan and Declan now old enough to assist in the chores, a feeling came over us all. There had been no more raids from the Nietzscheans, and the few villagers that had ventured to the city for news and supplies didn't return. A hushed atmosphere descended over the village, and we went there as little as possible. Lughna was the only one, venturing to take Declan and Siobhan to the little school in town. The rest of us continued to work while settling in for the winter.

One afternoon, as Liam, Devin, and I were stacking food into the cellar when the sky darkened. Orla, who was watching Brendan and Seamus up by the houses, screamed suddenly, bringing Josephine and Lughna running outside to see what was the matter. Thinking something had happened to one of the babies, the three of us ran up the hill as well. But Orla wasn't looking at either boy; instead her pale face was staring at the sky, a look of terror across it.

"Oh god..." I hear Devin, beside me, exclaim softly. He and Liam were looking up and I followed their gaze. My blood ran cold and my heart was paralyzed with fear. Filling the sky were hundreds of ships. Strange ships, but there was only one possibility for what they could be.

Magog.

"Everyone, quick," Liam didn't need to elaborate, Josephine rushed forward, hastily grabbed Seamus, who was now screaming, and raced for our small hiding chamber. With several layers of grass and dirt it was difficult to lift the door, and I ran to help her. Then again, the layers also served to hide our scents. If Magog or Nietzscheans were able to smell us, they would hopefully assume it was our houses and belongings that carried our odors.

As I rushed forward, Devin doing the same thing as I, I noticed Liam wasn't going towards his home.

"Liam, what're you doing?" I called out; halting though the panic racing through me urged me to run.

"Siobhan! Declan! Gods!" Lughna suddenly screamed, and she too began running towards the village, the direction Liam had been heading towards. I began to run after them when Josephine called to me.

"Evan no! Don't leave!" She cried; her eyes wide with fear. I stopped, looking over my shoulder at her and Seamus. Liam heard her, for he called over his shoulder,

"Stay here Evan, it's too dangerous –stay here and protect the others," I knew he had meant to say that it was too dangerous for _me_, but I knew I couldn't leave my wife and son, much as I wanted to help my brother and his children. Without further hesitation, I ran over to Josephine and the three of us entered the dark chamber we'd only had to use twice. Months ago, during one of the Nietzschean scares, the cries of Brendan and Seamus were so loud that we would surely have been given away. To solve this problem, Josephine had carefully concocted a mixture of herbs that when smelt, produced a calming affect, almost sending a child to sleep. She tried this on herself numerous times before allowing it to be used on any of the children, and there seemed to be no harmful effects.

In any case, it was preferable to certain death. As I lit a few of the extra candles we kept in here, Josephine soothed Seamus with the herbs, and he soon drifted to sleep. We sat in silence, my arm around her and the baby tightly except for when I went to the ceiling, listened carefully for any noises, and then slowly lifted the door, trying to see if Liam and Lughna had returned.

One of these looks was successful: As I lifted the door just enough to look out at the ground, I saw Lughna running furiously, gripping the hand of both Declan and Siobhan, terror written on all their faces. They raced to their own hiding cell and disappeared underneath it before I could call out and inquire about Liam. I would have continued to check for him, but after another hour different, stranger, noises filled our small home. I can't begin to describe the terror that filled us all; there were harsh, inhuman cries, the sound of many heavy feet treading above us. Josephine and I winced as we heard our house being torn apart. All either of us could do was hope that the rest of our family were alive and safely hidden. The herbs Josephine used must have been potent, for our son slept through this with only a small frown on his face. I had to take him from Josephine when she started to clutch him too hard, for I feared she would either harm him or wake him up.

I don't know how long this terror lasted. As the hours wore on, I drifted in and out of sleep, despite the cold fear I felt. Although neither of us could bear to eat, when Seamus eventually awoke, Josephine fed him before administering more of the herbs. Except for the candles, it was completely dark inside, so there was no way to tell how much time had passed. Finally though, the sounds ceased. We waited even longer, just in case there were more of them, but finally I dared to open the door; they had gone. I told Josephine to stay there for a few more minutes as I looked around. The destruction was heartbreaking; every one of our houses had been utterly destroyed, the pieces scattered around. A tornado might have hit and we wouldn't have known the difference. As I walked around sullenly, I came across a large corpse. I nearly fainted when I first saw it, for it belonged to a Magog, but it didn't move and I approached it cautiously. The smell nearly made me throw up; apparently after they hadn't been able to find any of us to eat, the monsters had turned on one another. It was sickening and didn't bear looking upon, so I instead went to tell Josephine it was safe to come out.

"My world," She exclaimed softly as I helped her out and she looked around. Still carrying Seamus, she followed me to Devin and Orla's hiding place. I called to them, saying it was safe to come out, and slowly the ground seemed to lift as Devin crawled out. I helped him out as Orla also appeared, clutching Brendan to her shoulder tightly. We were all silent for a moment, taking in the devastation around us.

"Liam, Lughna!" Orla suddenly cried out, then turned to rush towards their hut. I remembered seeing Lughna, along with the children, get to safety, but had Liam made it before the Magog attacked? As one we rushed to their cellar, as Orla frantically called to them. No one answered, and finally Devin and I pried the opening up, wondering if they had been injured somehow.

Sitting on the floor, a child huddling on either side of her was Lughna. She didn't look up as we called to her. Siobhan and Declan were crying, so I ducked inside, handing first one, and then the other, to Devin and the girls. Next I crouched in front of my sister in law, taking her hands gently. They were like ice, but at the touch she at last looked up. Blood was splattered across her face and I quickly searched for a wound, concerned for her.

"Liam," She said the name softly, eyes staring past me.

"Where is he?" I asked, seeing no wound on her. She didn't answer and I gave her a slight shake.

"Where is Liam, Lughna?" I asked again, louder this time. Still she didn't answer, and fear started to course through me again. Carefully I picked her up and climbed back out of the cellar, setting her back down on the ground.

"Take care of her, I'm going to find Liam," The others stared at me.

"I'm coming with you," Orla said at last, taking a step forward.

"No; you stay here. I'll go with Evan," Devin caught her arm and walked over to where I stood. I could see that Orla wanted to argue, but at a look from Josephine towards Lughna, she nodded. Devin gave me a curt nod and then we took off, racing for the village, both afraid of what we would find.

If our home was in destroyed, then the village was a complete disaster area. The sun was just rising (I hadn't even noticed until then that it was night) as we approached the village. It seemed that the Magog had left, leaving the remains of their attack behind. Houses lay crumpled on the ground, those that stood were burning. People ran through the streets, doing any number of things. People screamed out names, trying to find lost ones, children stood and cried, their parents no where in sight. Dunwich was by no means a large city, but there were at least close to a thousand people living scattered about the area. More than half of them were killed; those that were lucky enough to escape the Magogs' claws or teeth would find themselves crushed beneath collapsing houses, or trapped in burning buildings.

Trembling with fear and anger, I caught anyone who passed by and asked them about my brother. Although most people knew us, no one knew where Liam was or what had happened to him. Most of the villagers, some who I had even come to consider friends, were hysterical with fear and unable to assist themselves, let alone help us. So Devin and I wandered the streets for hours, calling out for Liam, our cries nearly drowned out by the sounds of the horror around us. Finally I thought to look by the school, as that was where Liam would have gone to rescue his children. Voicing this idea to Devin, we ran towards the school. We were met with a sobering sight; the building been burned down, and countless bodies, some those of children, were strewn around it.

Heartsick, we continued to search until at last, throat dried from breathing in smoke, eyes watering with the sting of it, I found my older brother.

I also learned that Lughna's face was covered with Liam's blood, which was why I could find no wound of her own.

When I recognized the body, I sank to my knees, disbelief clouding my mind.

"Devin," I called out, too overcome to say anything else. It wasn't needed; he saw me and ran over to my side, kneeling down to do what I could not; see if my brother still lived.

"Evan, I'm so sorry..." Devin turned his head as his voice caught in his throat. I fell forward, hands holding me up from the ground as I struggled to comprehend what was going on. Liam couldn't be dead. It wasn't possible. No matter that there were too many wounds to count; too much blood and dirt to make out his face clearly. He had to be alive somehow.

"Liam," I called softly, at last crawling over to his side, dusting off his clothes and rolling him onto his back. He would laugh when we explained how we thought he was dead. He'd scold us for scaring poor Lughna and the children. I knew what he'd say exactly: How could he leave when he needed to take care of all of us? We depended on him, so he wouldn't allow himself to die. It was as simple as that. He was my big brother; my protector.

"Come on, we have to take him home," I said softly, voice croaking. Devin looked up at me, confused by my tone. He must have realized something was wrong, but he didn't say anything, he only stood and helped me lift Liam's body, slowly walked back to what remained of our home.

I don't remember the walk back. I don't remember seeing Josephine and Orla rushing towards us, suppressing tears and screams when they saw our burden. I do remember Lughna's cry, her wild look as she saw us and her sigh as she fainted onto the ground.

"Josephine, he needs help," I said softly, stoically not looking down at the lifeless body of my brother. Handing Seamus to Devin, Josephine hesitatingly took a step forward, knelt, and checked to see if Liam still lived. Her face turned up to me in sadness and confusion.

"He needs help," I said louder, wondering why she did not rush to go and get her medicines.

"Evan, he..." her voice trailed off as she turned to look at her brother helplessly.

"He's not dead." I said softly, fists shaking. Josephine didn't say anything else; she turned back to me, walked over to where I stood, and embraced me tightly. I shuddered fiercely and suddenly was crying. I felt frozen inside. The only warmth I could detect was from Josephine, my Rose, who hugged me to her fiercely and whispered the same soothing sounds she used on Seamus when he cried. It was all too much, and a moment later, I again sank to my knees. Josephine kneeled with me, still cradling me in her arms, her own tears mingling with mine.

The next day the others built a pyre. I couldn't do anything, I'm ashamed to say. I was put in charge of watching the children; Lughna was still not herself and was put to bed, a cool cloth on her forehead. Orla, upset as I was, still managed to help Devin and Josephine. There was plenty of wood; we decided there was no point in rebuilding our houses, so that was no problem. No one talked much, except to give directions. Even the normally rambunctious Siobhan was subdued, sitting quietly with her brother by my side. Thankfully they both seemed unharmed. Josephine came to see me once everything was ready. She gave me Seamus to hold, taking the hands of Siobhan and Declan, both still silent, and Orla of course took Brendan as we went to the center of our small home, where the pyre, along with my brother, waited.

"Should we fetch Lughna?" Orla asked softly. They glanced at Josephine, who nodded tightly. Devin disappeared, helping a poor, pale, silent Lughna to walk. Her eyes were still unfocused, and her face appeared vacant. The others tried asking her if she wanted to say anything, but she didn't seem to hear them. Orla finally lit the pyre as the sun began to set; both on the day and on our old lives. Tears streamed down Lughna's face unchecked, and despite her strong will, Orla broke down crying, sobbing into Devin's arms. Josephine rested her head against my shoulder, but I could do nothing except stare at my brother's body as it burned. I couldn't even cry. It had all come to an end too quickly.

In the end, only Josephine had the strength to say any words. As the fire began to dwindle, a breeze picked up, scattering the ashes across the night sky. Her voice trembling, Josephine began to half sing, half recite, a song she claimed was an old family hymn...

"May the spirit never die, though a troubled heart feel pain. When this long winter is over, it will blossom once again..."

Days later, we were all still stunned by the swift obliteration of our former lives. No one knew what to do. Liam had always been the leader, the one we all looked to for guidance and advice. His calm, reassuring presence, now gone, had made us all feel safe. Lughna still did not seem to know herself; we gathered that Liam had been killed in front of her. Josephine said that she might regain her wits in a matter of days...but that it was a possibility that she'd never be the same again. Siobhan and Declan were too young to really understand what had happened. Although they sometimes asked where there father was, or sometimes stood silently, staring into the distance, they regained their enthusiasm for life, as is the way of children. Other than nightmares, it seemed that they would recover from their ordeal.

This again, left us wondering what to do. The lesson Dunwich had been taught was a harsh one; terrible as the Nietzscheans were, they were a buffer against the Magog. There had never been an attack so bad in the entire village's history. Josephine later recalled the woman's warning to her, a couple of years ago, when the Nietzscheans had first left. They must have known that by leaving, they made Dunwich a perfect feeding ground for the Magog, for we humans couldn't fight back. Now the village was all but destroyed, and it would take years for its prosperity to return, if it ever did. There was no telling when the Magog would return. The four of us discussed our options late into every night, trying to decide the best course of action.

In the end, there was really only one choice.

Boston.

The refugee camps would provide at least some amount of safety from Magog. I dimly recalled what the camp had been like when Orla and I had first arrived. Josephine was troubled by our decision, even though she agreed it was the only feasible option.

"It'll be hard to leave Dunwich," she said softly as we began to pack. All that any of us had left was a few pairs of clothing, and the food, which thankfully remained untouched. Not knowing what we'd find in the camp, we planned to bring as much food as we could carry. Josephine brought her medicines as well, or at least, the ones that could be scavenged from the wreck that was our house. Winter was upon us, and we bundled the children and ourselves heavily as we prepared to make the long march to Boston. None of us dared to talk of hope. We knew what awaited us in the 'Refugee' Camp; however we had a greater chance of survival there than here. Still, it was painful beyond words to leave that place where we had known happiness. I couldn't stop the tears when I realized that Liam wouldn't be coming with us. His children would never see their father again. When I voiced this thought out loud, Devin reached over and grasped my shoulder tightly.

"No, but they still have two Uncles who love them and will take care of them." His eyes didn't leave mine until I nodded. There was still an empty, hollow feeling inside of me that was left by Liam's death. In time, it would be filled with anger. For now, though, it was all I could do to follow Josephine, who carried our son, as we turned our backs on the past and stared at the ground we tread on, afraid to face our future.

Author's Note:

Aw man that was hard. Anyway, my headache's better now, thanks. Poor Liam. Poor everybody. This is too depressing...I'm gonna go. The next episode will be up shortly. (also, you should know that the lyrics to the two lullabies were from songs by Flogging Molly and Loreena Mckennit, as were the words Josephine quoted at the end. If you can't tell which is which, well, it doesn't really matter) Thanks for reading,

Luna Sealeaf


	10. Episode Ten

**Earth's Children**

Summary: The parents of Harper tell their tale of life and love in Post-Commonwealth Earth.

Author: Luna Sealeaf

Rating: PG

Disclaimer: Again, I do not own any Andromeda characters, so don't sue me, etc. Nor do I own the lyrics of the songs both parents sing. I'm not making any profit, and since my total life savings accumulates to a whopping 8 bucks (I went to the mall yesterday, lol) there's really no point in suing me.

Archive: It didn't occur to me before, but if anyone wants to they can. I dunno where this fic would fit in though...

"I don't believe in goodbyes.

Tis only a brief time until we meet again my dear

For each ending is but another beginning

Perhaps within this next life

Our time shall come

(Our time shall come)

And once again,

For the first time,

We'll be together

Apart no more."

-Ancient Earth Lyrics (AFC 32)

Episode Ten

Hope is a funny thing. Just when you thought it was gone forever, you find some small part of it still alive in you. My hope had been lost when I was young; Evan Harper, that strange Irishman, had rekindled it.

I hoped what was left could survive Liam's death.

Things certainly seemed bad. Bad? Now that's an understatement. Dunwich, the home where I had been born, grew up in, and where I had had my child, was destroyed, probably beyond all repair. A man I'd come to think of as an older brother, had died a brutal, painful death, in the effort to save his wife and children from that same death. And what was left? Devin and Orla, with my nephew Brendan, would surely recover, though of course Orla was heartbroken. What about the others?

Evan was distraught; he had depended heavily on his big brother. Still, he had me and Seamus, not to mention the others, and if I knew him as well as I thought I did, he too would recover. That left Lughna, Siobhan, and Declan. None of us spoke of it out loud, but we all were wondering what to do with Lughna. She didn't ever speak, and although she followed our instructions without trouble, neither did she respond to anyone –including her children. The four year old twins didn't seem to realize something was wrong with their mother. They clung to her desperately, holding her unfeeling hands as they looked at the world with wide eyes.

In the end, we decided to save those decisions for later. Right now, we had to worry about surviving in our new home, and I use that term loosely, at the Boston Refugee Camp.

My first thoughts after we entered the tall gate (after we'd been registered and given work cards) was how cold the place was. Evan looked about grimly, muttering that it hadn't changed from when he'd first been brought here. I held Seamus a little tighter, and could almost sense the shift of our collective gaze to check on Siobhan and Declan.

But the Nietzscheans who'd permitted us entrance were in no mood to let us to stand there and sightsee.

"Move along!" One shouted harshly. Without hesitation I led the others forward, even though I had no idea where to go. As I looked around, I couldn't help but feel a little saddened at the sight of this once great city. Boston had a rich history on Earth, but you'd never be able to tell from the looks of it now.

I stepped on something, and heard a sharp crack. Looking down, startled, I saw it was a piece of glass. How could someone be careless enough to leave something as precious as glass lying around? I scanned the streets and was shocked as I noticed two things: one, the streets were littered with filth, and secondly, there was no one outside. Most of the buildings appeared empty as well, despite the fact that it was a cold winter's night. I mentioned the state of the streets, and Devin picked up Declan while Evan moved to carry Siobhan. The children had no shoes or cloth to wrap around their feet.

"What should we do?" Orla asked softly as we all stopped and looked around helplessly. Evan shrugged helplessly, and Devin only turned his gaze to me questioningly. Only Lughna stared forward, pale and silent. I felt a great weight upon my shoulders; when had I become the leader? That was Liam's job. He always knew what to do. Seamus started crying and I shifted him to my shoulder, trying to think.

"Let's move out of the open first, it doesn't feel right," I said at last, and started walking down the narrowed road between two gray and dead buildings.

"I'm hungry," Siobhan announced loudly from Evan's shoulder.

"Don't worry honey, we'll get something to eat soon," I promised her. First we had to find somewhere to stay. The walls on either side of us seemed to close in, and there was no light. Suddenly figures moved in the darkness.

"Lookin' for somethin' there, pretty?" A raspy voice said by my ear. I nearly jumped a mile, and then I felt a hard grip on my shoulder. I couldn't fight him with my hands as I was holding Seamus.

"Let her go," I heard Evan, beside me, growl. Other figures moved, the grip on my shoulder not loosening in the slightest.

"Ow!" I heard, and a loud crack.

"Devin!" I cried in panic, recognizing his voice. Orla shouted something, Siobhan screamed as Evan swore loudly. For a few moments there was nothing but chaos, then a louder, firm voice said,

"Everybody stop!" And to my surprise, everything did. Devin, still holding Devin, but deprived of our packs of food, which he'd been carrying on his back, hurried forward with Orla as we slowly backed out of the alley and into the open space at the end. As if I didn't have enough to carry, Evan handed Siobhan to me, so I had a child in each arm (two heavy children) and he stepped forward protectively. For once I wasn't going to tease him about it. Then the figures stepped out from the shadows, to our surprise. There were a few grungy men, their clothes ripped and torn, faces indiscernible. They could have been anywhere from eighteen to eighty for all I could tell. After they had filed out a woman, her face clearly seen by all, stepped forward, smiling grimly.

Her hair was long and dark; braided and tied back into a strange, outlandish hairstyle. Her eyes were dark as well, outlined by something like kohl. Her outfit was as weird as her hair: torn pants, a stiff black and sleeveless shirt, with a torn jacket over it. She wore nothing else except gloves –fingerless gloves I noted. All in all, they hardly looked like trustworthy individuals.

"Well boys, it seems like we got ourselves a couple of country-folks." She sneered at us, and I felt myself blush –with anger.

"Country-folk with food," She added, taking a small step forward. I saw Evan's hands turn to fists.

"Go on your way. Can't you see we've got children with us?" He spat out, and although his back was to me, I knew his eyes were blazing with that fierce look he got. The woman looked him over, and then she looked over us. I could only imagine what we must have looked like to her. Fresh meat, no doubt. But to my surprise, her sarcastic grin disappeared and was replaced with a soft smile.

"You're right. Four kids no less." She walked towards us, but as her stance was no longer threatening, neither Evan nor any of us tried to stop her. The woman stopped in front of me, looking at Siobhan in a strange way. I realized that she couldn't have been much older than me, yet the lines around her eyes and mouth were that of an older woman. Siobhan, uncomfortable with this scrutiny, stuck her tongue out and made her 'angry face' at the woman, who in turn laughed loudly, startling us all, and Siobhan buried her face in my shoulder.

"Leave her alone," I found myself saying softly, aware of how tired my arms were getting.

"I don't hurt children," She said, her voice surprisingly hard. It was as though she was offended by my words.

"You can go boys. I'll meet you back at the house." She announced loudly. The scruffy figures didn't need to be told twice. They seemed to disappear into the shadows as they followed her orders.

"Sorry about the rude entrance. You ok?" She nodded to Devin, and I turned to look at him. He nodded in answer; there was a dark bruise forming by his hairline, but he seemed to be ok. Declan was staring at us all with terrified eyes.

"Who are you?" Evan asked harshly. I could tell he didn't like the woman; neither did I really; what right did she have to scare poor innocent children so?

"Me?" She stared at Evan blankly for a moment, and then laughed, slapping her knee. "Sorry, it's just that, I'm so used to people knowing my name. I forgot you're newbies. I," She gave what was meant to be a flourishing bow. "am Carla Bennet, leader of Carla's Boys. Nice to meet you all." She placed her hands on her hips proudly. Clearly she was used to being considered someone of importance.

"Now seeing as how I've got a soft spot for newbies, how's about we make ourselves a deal? I'll gladly help you folks out however I can in exchange for some of that food you's all got."

"Your 'boys' already took one of our bags," Devin pointed out.

"Oh yeah, I forgot about that. Well, consider that the toll fee," She said, still grinning.

"Toll fee?" I echoed faintly.

"Sure, you guys were on my turf and all. Course, I'll forgive you, seeing as how you didn't know any better, but we'll just say that you paid in advance for any future passings." Carla didn't skip a beat as she told us this, and her grin didn't falter in the slightest. If everyone was like this, Boston was one strange place.

"Mind if we sit while talking?" Orla asked loudly. All our feet were tired and soar from walking. Not to mention our arms.

"First let's find a better place to work on our business," Carla winked. "Follow me," With that, she turned and started walking away. No one else moved for a moment. Should we trust her? It seemed possible that she'd simply stab us all in the back and steal whatever we had.

"Come on, I trust her," Orla finally said, starting to follow her. No one hesitated after that; we had all learned to trust Orla's instincts when it came to people. As we walked I handed Siobhan back to Evan, glad to be relieved of that weight.

I fully expected Carla to lead us into one of the empty buildings, or perhaps to another alleyway, but to my surprise, we ended up going _underground_. Catching sight of our amazement, Carla explained,

"There are tunnels everywhere under the city. It's the safest place to travel by, most of the time. Nietzscheans almost never come down here. And when they do, it's a hell of a lot easier to kill 'em." I didn't comment but continued walking, trying not to think of what we were stepping in. I lost track of how far we walked, or how many times we turned, before finally coming to an open chamber through one of the tunnels.

"Yes, this should do nicely," Carla said, looking around in satisfaction. The one good thing I could say about the small room was that it was dry, even the floor, for the most part.

"You guys can probably stay here for a little while. Doesn't look like anyone else is living here." Orla and I exchanged horrified looks. Stay here? Under the city? Surrounded by darkness with no daylight? Assuming we could manage to find our way back to the surface.

"Say, what's a matter with her?" Carla asked curiously, staring at Lughna, who had followed us complacently, eyes still vacantly staring forward. I pulled her towards me gently; as protective as Evan had been earlier.

"She's not well," I replied curtly. Carla shrugged and in one movement sat down, crossing her legs. We followed her example, some of us shifting positions so that children could sit on our laps more easily.

"They look hungry," Carla commented.

"They've had a long day," I snapped back, trying to keep Seamus still. All around us muffled sounds could be heard, as though echoing from a long way away.

"Newbies are so fun. Don't worry, you'll get used to the noise. It's just the other people living down here."

"How many are there?" Devin asked in surprise, his curiosity peaked.

"How should I know? Enough; probably a couple thousand." Carla shrugged, the number rolling off her tongue casually. Questions ran through my mind, and for a moment all of us were silent.

"So where you from?" Carla asked comfortably, studying us with as much interest as we studied her.

"Dunwich," I answered at last as no one else seemed inclined to answer. Carla's eyes widened and she leaned forward.

"You guys came from there? Gosh, it's a wonder you survived. How'd you make it?" Her voice was incredulous, but I was surprised by her knowledge.

"How do you know about the Magog attack?" I asked.

"How do I know? How could I not know? It's all the Ubers 'ave been talking about for years. When they left and shut down the factories, there were rumors that they knew it was a marked place. When the Magog didn't attack immediately, they started raiding the place for more slaves, before you could all get wasted." She said the last part softly. We sat silently; stunned by the knowledge we'd just been given. Suddenly, unbidden, the warning given to me all those years ago became clear.

_"The camps are the safest place for your kind..."_

"Let me see your work cards," Carla demanded suddenly. A little uneasily, I handed her mine. Evan didn't budge, but Orla and Devin gave her theirs. Carla didn't seem to notice Evan's lack of trust. When she looked at Devin's, Carla whistled and looked up at him compassionately.

"The mines? Gads.." She shook her head sadly as she looked at mine and Orla's. "Well, at least you ladies'll be able to skip out on work." She handed the cards back to us.

"What do you mean?" I asked in surprise.

"Oh please, you think the Ubers actually keep track of the workers? Especially at the so-called 'Refugee Station'? As long as they never want for anything, then they could care less about who does the work."

"But that's not fair." I protested, feeling surprised. "The Refugee Station is for us humans, so are the mess halls. If no one works there, how are we supposed to use them? And how are we supposed to earn money?" The others nodded in agreement to my question.

"Girlie, I haven't worked at my assigned station in my entire life, and I'm doing fine." Carla shrugged as though it were the most obvious thing in the world. "And what would you do with money? Think you can trade it with the Ubers for food? Nah, if you want something around here, you gotta either go through the Collaborators and the black market, or trade with your neighbors at the Market."

Hard times bring out either the worst or the best in people; that has been true throughout history. I guess I had always wanted to believe that in Earth's case, it brought out the best. Now, faced with the reality of our new lives, I was beginning to think otherwise.

"Don't worry, you'll get used to it here. Once you get the hang of things, life's not so bad. I gotta get going. You ever need anything, just look up old Carla...everyone knows where to find me and the boys. We're always willing to do a good deed for a small price." She winked at us again, stood, and was gone as quickly as her men before her. We sat in silence, not sure whether to be horrified or relieved.

"I'm hungry!" Siobhan complained again.

"Me too," Declan piped up. As Orla stood up Brendan started crying. No matter where we might go, one thing never changed; children will always be children.

To be honest, that first night was the hardest. We dug out a few blankets from the packs and made up beds for the kids. Evan had fallen silent, and I knew his thoughts were dwelling on Liam. The room was chilly and dark, but in a strange way, it was sort of comforting. Despite the odd, echoing noises that continued throughout the night, we weren't disturbed by anyone else. We huddled together, trying to sleep, and wondering what the morning would bring.

As it turned out, the morning brought nothing spectacular. Just hungry children, who we fed, and discussions on what we should do next. A few hours passed; Siobhan and Declan started playing a game, Orla was talking quietly to Lughna, and I was pressing a wet cloth to Devin's forehead. Evan was holding Brendan and Seamus quietly, and all was, for the most part, peaceful. Abruptly the silence was broken by a loud,

"Why hello there! Someone said there were Newbies around!" A frazzled looking man, face wrinkled and his hair a white-blonde, despite his youthful appearance, leaned inside. As one, we all jumped and turned to face the stranger.

"Who are you and what do you want?" I asked wearily.

"Name's Charley. I just stopped by to see if you needed any help," He was grinning now, much the same way as Carla had grinned earlier.

"What's this, some sort of welcoming committee?" Evan asked sarcastically. Charley stared at him blankly.

"A woman named Carla.." I thought for a moment, "Bennet, came yesterday. I take it any help you give will have to be bought?" As I spoke the name Charley frowned.

"Dammit, that woman's always stealing my business. How'd she get to you so quick?" Without another word, Charley disappeared, leaving us all bewildered.

Later, after we'd been in Boston for awhile, we learned of how many well-connected people liked to take advantage of 'newbies'; helping them to settle in, giving advice, obtaining supplies, that sort of thing, all at a price (usually food or clothing). There was always fierce competition to be a Newbie's first 'friend', since people would most likely trust the first person to help them out. However, at the time, we didn't know or understand any of this. We were just tired and wanted to find a place to settle in.

The tunnels might have been safe, but I refused to live underground, never getting any sunlight. Orla and Devin agreed (Evan didn't voice an opinion, which was unusual for him) and so we gathered our things and went out to try and find our way to the surface.

"You okay?" I asked Evan quietly as we walked through the dark tunnels. He was carrying Seamus and holding him closely. I slipped an arm around my waist and he leaned into me a little.

"I'm getting better," he answered, just as quietly. I continued to walk beside him in this manner until we reached the surface, which wasn't as hard to find as we had first feared. Of course, now came the inevitable question of Now What? For the second day in a row we walked along the streets of the Human Ghetto in Boston. It wasn't a pretty sight. Nor was it all that interesting. Suffice it to say that eventually we found a small, empty building that we were able to convert into a 'house'. The house was located close to an entrance to the tunnels, and was surrounded by other empty buildings. Ours was the only one that didn't seem to be falling apart –yet. Nor were we the only people who preferred to live above the ground. As the day wore on several other people crossed by the streets, but none stopped at our house, and all walked quickly, their heads bowed.

I won't say that setting up house was fun or easy, but there was a sense of normality about deciding where people would sleep, what would be the kitchen, and so on. The first four levels were usable, the fifth floor was pitted and I was afraid it wouldn't hold much weight. The space was divided thus: the first floor would be (eventually) the kitchen and shared room. The next floor would be Orla's and Devin's, along with Brendan. The third floor would be Lughna's and her children, and finally Evan and I would occupy the fourth floor, along with Seamus of course. I helped Evan fix up the stairs, since they didn't look like they'd hold up for long, and then we had to decide who would report for their work. I didn't like the way Carla had said the 'mines' and I worried about Devin going there. Finally it was decided that he and Evan would alternate days, just in case a complete failure to show up attracted attention. Orla and I decided it was pointless to report to our own stations, judging on what Carla had said. Beside, with two babies, two toddlers, and Lughna, one person staying at home would not have been enough.

So began our life in the Boston Harbor Refugee Camp. Looking back now, those first few months were almost humorous. It was one event after another. After three and a half weeks we all became infested with lice and had to cut our hair. To our surprise, Carla had remembered us and occasionally stopped by to see how we were doing. She laughed when she saw our shorn hair and explained the reason. The men, she told us, used a sticky sort of paste to spike their hair up, or they simply ignore the lice. The women either braided her hair, like Carla's, used the same stuff the men did (only generally they grew their hair longer and didn't spike them up) or also ignored the lice.

Carla also helped us to find the Market. It was underground in a large room; people brought any extra goods they had to trade; food was also abundant, more so than I had expected. All in all, Carla had been correct; once we knew where to go, and how things worked, life wasn't as difficult as I had feared it would be. Only one thing ever bothered me.

"Why have you helped us so much, Carla?" I asked one night. The others had gone to bed, but the twins were still up and I had fixed us some tea. Carla had spent the evening with us, and now was on the floor wrestling with Siobhan as Declan laughed in delight. At my question though, she stopped abruptly, whispered something to the little girl, and stood up. Dusting herself off in a dignified manner, she turned and accepted the cup of tea I offered her.

"I don't know." She finally said, giving a customary shrug before sipping the tea. I stared at her as I sipped my own.

"I think you do," I said softly, still watching her. Carla froze, and she looked at her tea as though seeing something else.

"Yeah, I guess you're right." She gave one of her quirky smiles and jerked her head towards the other side of the room, where the twins played on the floor.

"I had a little girl," She continued, though she had turned and was watching the children play. I didn't say anything; this was too personal to pry about. To my surprise, Carla continued.

"When she was about eight, I came home from my job and she wasn't there."

"I thought you said you had never gone to work?" I asked despite my resolve to not interrupt.

"I lied,"

"Oh, sorry,"

"Anyway, she wasn't home. I looked for her, asked my friends if she'd gone to their house, and she hadn't. A couple of days later, someone recognized her and brought her home –her body, I mean. She'd gone out to play and supposedly wandered over to the Nietzscheans' side of the city." Carla took a deep breath, and a sip of tea.

"The Ubers, they're bastards, you know?" I nodded in agreement even though I sensed she was talking more to herself than to me. "Lindsey knew better than to go over there. Why would she? All her friends live here. Not that it matters. Either way, some Uber got bored and decided it'd be fun to see how long it takes for a human girl to die."

I was horrified, and couldn't drink any more tea. My gaze shifted to the twins, and I thought of the babies upstairs. How could we raise our children here? As if reading my thoughts, Carla finished off her tea, set the cup down, and headed towards the door, pausing before she left to say over her shoulder,

"There's nothing anyone can do. We survive, and if we can, we protect the people we care about."

"Who do you protect?" I asked. Again, she smiled thinly.

"Well, I'm one of those who've run out of people to protect. That's why I got the boys together; there's only me left. Thanks for the tea." With that, she left, leaving me to contemplate our new life –and our new home.

Author's Note:

Sorry this episode took so long, I'll try not to be so long next time. Anyway, I hope this one was good. It felt too short, even though it's the same length as the others. Weird. Well, thanks for all the reviews about the last two episodes, and as always, thanks for reading!

-Luna Sealeaf


	11. Episode Eleven

**Earth's Children**

Summary: The parents of Harper tell their tale of life and love in Post-Commonwealth Earth.

Author: Luna Sealeaf

Rating: PG

Disclaimer: Again, I do not own any Andromeda characters, so don't sue me, etc. Nor do I own the lyrics of the songs both parents sing. I'm not making any profit, and since my total life savings accumulates to a whopping 8 bucks, there's really no point in suing me.

Archive: It didn't occur to me before, but if anyone wants to they can. I dunno where this fic would fit in though...

Songs my mother taught me

In the days long vanish'd;

Seldom from her eyelids

Were the teardrops banish'd.

Now I teach my children

Each melodious measure;

Oft the tears are flowing;

Oft they flow from my mem'ry's treasure.

-Ancient Earth song

Episode Eleven

Six months. For six months we lived in that place. No; lived is the wrong word. We survived. There's a difference. Several times Devin and I went to the mines, as we had been told to do, just to see what it was like. It wasn't fun. I don't think the Nietzscheans even really needed the rocks we were mining; it was just something to keep us busy.

Both Brendan and Seamus were now beginning to walk, as well as to say their first words. Siobhan and Declan, escorted by myself or Devin, started going to a 'school' that was held underground. I admit to being a little impressed when I saw the chamber underground; all sorts of old artifacts, ancient and 'modern' had been collected and were used to teach the children Earth's history. I learned at there were actually three or four of these chambers, called 'The Museum' but for those first six months, none of us were eager to leave the small building we'd claimed as our home.

Summer came; with the heat, the smells of the city grew. People flocked to the far edge of the camp, where a stretch of land reached the ocean. There the wind and water helped to blow the foul stench away. Seamus had just turned two when I was stricken by a strange illness. It was not caused by germs, at least, none that I know of, and there were few physical symptoms. I don't know what to call it, but I started feeling...detached. I smiled little; even Josephine's quick wit failed to make me laugh. It's hard to explain what was happening; I just felt that, in general, life had lost all pleasure for me. The days were often dark and when the sun did shine it was a weak and pale light. Our family rarely gathered together except for meals, during which most of us ate in silence. While my love for Josephine hadn't gone, I found that I couldn't bear her company for too long. Something in my heart ached constantly, but I did not know what.

Sometimes I wondered if the same thing that had happened to Lughna was happening to me. And I wondered if I should worry about it. Poor Lughna; she had regained some sense, and occasionally she was back to her old self, laughing and playing with her children. And then she would ask where Liam was, and when none of us could answer, her eyes would slowly become vacant once again.

So the days and weeks passed; I grew a small beard and became recluse. Several times Josephine, my Rose, asked what was wrong. I couldn't answer, since I didn't know myself. Thankfully, my awful mood didn't last forever. One day I wandered down to the rocks by the sea. It was a gray, rainy day, so few people were by the water. Ignoring the chilly air I found a flat rock that brushed up against the dark water and I went to sit on it. For many minutes I sat there silently, staring out into the distance, remembering the first time I had seen the Atlantic, years ago. How many years? I tried to count them, but some passages of time seemed to slip from my mind. When we had left Ireland I was eighteen, and now I was...twenty-five or twenty-six. Somewhere around there. Abruptly my thoughts were interrupted when I felt someone sit behind me, casually leaning their back against mine, resting their head gently against mine.

"Hello Josephine," I said quietly, smiling to myself.

"Oh, so you do know my name. I was beginning to wonder." Came her sharp reply. Instantly I felt guilty for my bad attitude these past few months and the guilt only made me feel worse. I stood up and walked down closer to the ocean, saying as I did,

"Excuse me for being such a terrible husband." I regretted the words as soon as I uttered them, but I couldn't take them back. It was all one terrible circle I couldn't seem to escape.

"Evan, what's the matter with you? You've changed somehow, and I can't seem to bring you back," She had followed me to the shallow water, delicately stepping on the wobbly rocks. Slowly, I turned to look at her. I was surprised at how much she had changed: Her hair, once long and wavy, was cropped short, to just below her ears. Instead of the long dresses she once wore, she had knee length pants, torn at the bottom, an old tattered blouse, and a dark vest. Her beauty was still evident though; nothing could ever change that. To my surprise, I felt a surge of emotion go through me and before I knew what I was doing I had stepped towards her and swept her up into a tight hug. I felt her start to cry, and I felt as though somehow I was slowly waking up from a long, long, dream.

"I'm so sorry Rose, forgive me? I've just been afraid...and angry. I didn't know how to deal with it. I still don't. Will you help me?" I said the words softly, breathing in the scent of her. Somewhere in the sky a lonely bird was crying harshly.

"Afraid? You?" She laughed a little, leaning out of my arms so she could see my face. Impulsively I kissed her; just once.

"I'm terrified, more than you can know. Of everything, really, but mostly of losing you. Or Seamus. Or Orla, Brendan, Devin...any of them. I couldn't bear another loss."

"I'm scared too Evan," Josephine said seriously.

"I don't believe it. You're fearless, remember?" She grinned at me.

"But I am frightened. Of being alone." I was confused and she must have seen this, for she sighed and continued to explain. "I keep thinking of your mother Evan." This surprised me, I had never talked much about my parents. "If she's still alive, she has no one. Her two eldest children were taken from her. She recovered, thanks to you, Liam, and Orla, as well as her husband. But what happened when all of you were taken from her? I'm the same as you Evan. I can't imagine losing you or Devin, or Siobhan and Declan..."

"What about Seamus?" I asked quietly, already knowing the answer.

"Seamus is going to be fine." Her words made me feel frustrated, at what I don't know.

"How can you be so certain?" I dropped my arms and turned towards the water.

"I just know. We may both be killed tomorrow, all of us, but I'm sure that Seamus will live. Call it a mother's intuition if you will." I laughed and embraced her once more. We spent most of the day by the water, laughing, talking, singing, and rediscovering our love for each other. It was like balm to a wound; after that, I felt a great weight slowly leave me. I felt happier than I had in months, and to celebrate I surprised everyone when I brought out my tin whistle after supper. We had a fun night of singing, while I played every tune I could think of, as well as a few I had made up.

That woman, Carla Bennet, often stopped by too. She remained the only person we knew fairly well, though Orla and Josephine had met a few men and women at the market who seemed decent. I didn't like Carla at first, but in the end of that summer she did me a great favor. Overhearing my forlorn complaint to Josephine about the old whiskey my father used to make, Carla laughed and said she knew where I could find some alcohol.

"Course, if it kills you, don't blame me." She added. I scarcely heard those words. I jumped to my feet so quickly that Seamus and Declan, who'd been climbing all over me, slid to the floor.

"Where can I get it?" I asked breathlessly. Carla shrugged.

"There's a few people at the market who sell different kinds. The best variety comes from the black market, but that's just my opinion."

"Come on Devin, we've got some shopping to do!" I said, smiling. Devin looked up from the paper he'd been reading, looking dubious about our mission.

"Haven't we got better things to do?" He asked, looking bored.

"Like what? Come on, you'll thank me later." I didn't give him a choice. In two strides I reached the spot where he was sitting and hoisted him to his feet. Josephine laughed while Orla sighed audibly.

"Evan, I don't believe you. Don't you dare go and get my husband drunk." She said accusingly. I feigned innocence.

"Orla, in our entire life, have you ever known me to get drunk?" Her carefully raised eyebrow gave me all the answer I needed.

"Ok ok, maybe when I first started drinking I got a little tipsy, but never anything serious."

"Fine, go make a fool of yourself. It matters not to me." Orla threw her hands up, a gesture she'd picked up from Josephine, and walked over to help Siobhan boil some water to drink. I glanced at Josephine to see what she thought of all this, but she was holding Seamus and looking amused.

"Evan, I'm not so sure about this..."

"Devin?"

"What?"

"Shut up and let's go."

I dragged him out the door and we walked through the streets to the tunnels. So that night Devin tasted his first glass of liquor. Or at least, that's what the man who sold it to us called it. I didn't care; the smell made me recall my days in Ireland, and the nights I'd stayed up with Liam and my father, drinking and talking over serious issues. After making several friends very quickly, we had quite a night. Some time later, after a few bottles, Carla showed up, grinning wickedly at mine and Devin's condition.

"Well aren't you two a pair of lugheads."

"Lughead? What's a lughead?" Devin asked me, slurring the words slightly. I shrugged; trying to focus my eyes so there was only one Carla instead of two.

"Your poor wives. Anyway, they asked me to see if you two were all right." She eyed us up and down. "Judging by the look of you, I'd suggest you stay the night. I'll let Orla and Josephine know." We thanked her profusely until she finally left. The rest of the night was a blur. The morning, however, was crystal clear.

"Oh....in the name of all that's sacred..." Devin groaned into my ear. I opened my eyes and blaring light filled them. Just as quickly I shut them and grimaced.

"Evan, you didn't tell me about the bloody headaches..."

"Quit shouting," I mumbled, wincing at the sound of his voice. We were lying in a corner of the market. Several other people were lying around nearby. Slowly we both stood up and opened our eyes.

"Let's go home." I finally managed to say. Devin started to nod, then winced and put a hand to his head. Together we made it back to the surface and headed for home. Did I say that the sun rarely shown? Well, that morning it was painfully bright. It was still fairly early and we weren't sure if anyone would be awake or not. To our surprise Orla was in the kitchen feeding a wide awake Brendan some mashed up food.

"Hey there my boy," Devin said softly, walking over to place a kiss on his son's head. Orla smiled at us wryly and folded her arms, looking Devin up and down.

"So how do you feel, now that you're a 'real' man?" Devin glanced at me before answering.

"To be honest? Like a piece of –"

"Evan! Thank god you're home!" Josephine's voice reverberated through my earlobes and I slowly started to rub my temples. Her next words however, drove all thoughts of a hangover out of my head.

"Orla, Devin! Lughna's gone! She's not in her bed!" Without asking questions we split up to search the house. During the past few weeks Lughna would sometimes wake up and start wondering around the house, occasionally going outside. She was beyond reason and it took at least two of us to bring her back inside to safety. We'd been searching for about ten minutes when I heard Orla's strangled cry.

"What is it?" I called, following the sound of my sister's voice. She was on the second floor, where Devin, her, and Brendan slept. Going into the room, I saw her leaning out over the open window on the far wall. Hearing me enter, she turned to look at me, face pale and aghast.

"It's Lughna..." Trembling, she stepped aside and pointed out the window. I rushed over and looked out. My breath caught in my throat. There, on the ground just outside the window, lay Lughna, still on the ground except for her red curls, which blew across her face gently from the breeze.

We can never know exactly how or when it happened. Orla told us that Brendan had woken her up unusually early that morning, before the sun had even risen. She'd been downstairs and hadn't heard anyone else get up. Neither Declan nor Siobhan had noticed their mother wake up. Soberly we prepared to burn the body of my sister-in-law. Lughna Rylee Harper. We never even knew her real last name. Little Declan and Siobhan watched faces white, as the body of their mother was burned, her ashes to be strewn into the ocean.

"At least she's with Liam now," Orla said softly, her face streaked with tears. One question was burning through all of our minds; when she had fallen, was Lughna sane or had she gone to that dark place her mind had so often sunk to after Liam's death? None of us wanted to broach the idea that maybe it hadn't been an accident. Maybe life with her love was too great for Liam. In any case, it didn't matter much. She was dead. Another member of our small family was gone.

After her death we avoided the third floor. Declan and Siobhan went to share a room with Devin and Orla. We refused to call the twins orphans. After all, an orphan is a person who has no family. Siobhan and Declan had two aunts and two uncles, as well as two cousins.

Slowly the relative happiness of our lives returned. Seamus and Brendan were becoming as thick as thieves, and all four children often played together. Their laughter and demand of our attention helped to ease that sad time after Lughna's death. Our mourning eventually came to an end the day that Orla announced she was pregnant, again. Her face glowing with pride, the astonished (yet happy) look on Devin's face, and my own happiness at the thought of another niece or nephew all served to bring us closer together.

So first fall, and then winter, passed as we waited. Waited for spring, waited for Orla's time of birth to come, waited for our lives to change yet again. One morning, eight months later, I was tickling Seamus mercilessly, causing the boy to squeal with laughter, and grinning at the sound of his voice, when Josephine suddenly said,

"I'll be turning twenty-six this year." She said the words with a strange sort of awe. Orla and Devin, who were also downstairs, exchanged smiles.

"You're getting old, sis." Devin teased her lightly.

"You're twenty-four Devin. I wouldn't be talking," Josephine retorted.

"What are we going to do for you mother's birthday?" I asked Seamus softly. As we had been playing in the kitchen, no one else heard my words. I stared into my son's blue eyes, as he shook his head, grinning that toothy smile of toddlers.

"I dunno Daddy," he replied, probably not even understanding the question. I gave him a quick hug then released him to go play with his cousins as I asked the question to myself.

In the end, it was Carla (again) who helped me out. I had gone down to the markets by myself to see if I couldn't get any ideas. Josephine still had the necklace with the wooden beads that I'd given her for our first anniversary, but I doubted I could make anything like them again. For the past couple of years we had mostly given each other non-material gifts. I'd play my music for her, or she'd sing something for me. Or other, more personal, such gifts. This year I wanted to do something special.

"Why hello there neighbor!" The familiar, jaunty voice said behind me.

"Don't you ever go home?" I asked as I turned. Carla grinned at me and gestured to the chamber around us.

"What are you talking about, this is home." I rolled my eyes and turned away.

"So...whatcha doing?" She fell into step with me. Obviously she was bored, though I couldn't imagine why. Usually she claimed to be busier than she could handle. Strangely enough, I found that I didn't mind the company.

"Trying to think of a gift for Josephine," I answered, pausing to look at several odd-looking objects spread out on a blanket on the floor.

"That sounds like fun. Anything I can do to help?"

"Well..." I thought for a few minutes, trying to think of things Josephine liked.

"She loves music..." I said at last, not sure where the thought was going.

"Have you guys been to the Museum?" Carla asked abruptly. I glanced at her and shook my head. What did the museum have to do with music? Sure, it had a few archives, but Josephine would probably find it boring to go and read the lists of old songs...

"Cause, you know, on Saturday nights they play all the old records. Everyone who can make it comes by and hangs out. There's dancing, and sometimes refreshments..." She kept talking but I had stopped walking and was staring at her.

"Carla, you're brilliant!" I could have hugged her, except that somehow I imagined that if a person tried to hug Carla, they'd end up with a dagger stuck in their gut.

"Well, yeah, of course." She stared at me as though I had stated that the sky was blue. I got the location from her, and the time that the 'party started' (to use Carla's words) before racing off back home.

Oh, I can't begin to describe how much fun it was, driving Josephine crazy with false hints as to what I got her. Or in this case, what I planned for her. Since we didn't know the exact day she'd been born, I picked a Saturday two weeks from when Carla and I had talked. We debated about whether Orla should go or not, since she was in the later stages of her pregnancy, but at last she decided that she wanted to see my surprise. I hadn't told anybody what the surprise was, and the looks on their faces as we walked into the largest chamber underground was priceless.

It was crowded with people; lights had been lit so the room was aglow. A few hand made decorations of bright gaudy colors hung on the walls, and music was blaring. Josephine nearly cried when she took it all in.

"So this is how they do it," She said softly.

"Do what?" I asked her.

"Stay sane." She grinned at me, and before I could answer she was dragging me to the center of the room, where people of all ages and size were dancing in a thousand different ways. The children had a blast, running and shouting and hopping to the music. Even Orla enjoyed it, though she couldn't do much but sit and listen. Each song was completely different as they were randomly chosen from the archives. That was one nice thing about the cities; they were literally the preservation centers of Earth's culture and history before the Nietzscheans had taken over. Music was one of the best things to be saved. Some songs were in ancient languages, but we didn't have to understand the words to enjoy the music. Other, slightly more recent pieces were in Common and many people sang along to the familiar tunes. While we there, Josephine and I chatted with several other couples.

"It's so great that the Magog haven't attacked all year. Whenever they do, no one arranges these for months," One woman was saying happily. Josephine and I exchanged glances. Magog? We knew they attacked the camps every once in awhile, but we had always assumed that the Nietzscheans fought them off.

"Oh they do, but a lot still get into the human ghetto." The woman said, before moving on, probably not wanting to depress her night by talking about Magog.

We spent all night there; Brendan fell asleep on his mother's lap, but Siobhan, Declan, and Seamus stayed up with us, screaming with laughter. I have to admit, that while the slower songs were lovely, I preferred the louder, faster music, the kind that left a ringing in my ears. Most of the crowd seemed to like these; there was just something about the crazy, frenzied dancing to the fast beats that made it all the easier to forget about our lives outside. It was strengthening in a way I never knew music could be.

Still, as dawn approached, the crowd started to thin, and we gathered the children for the walk home.

"Happy birthday," I whispered softly to my wife. She smiled and kissed me.

"Thank you," She whispered back.

After that we attended every week. We made some new friends, including a young woman named Theresa and her boyfriend Vince. Siobhan and Declan made a few friends their own age as well, but after a fight with one of them, Siobhan announced that she preferred her little cousins. Privately I figured it was because they tended to do what she told them to. In any case, the next month passed quickly and much more pleasantly than the past few had.

Orla gave birth to a healthy little girl at the end of her ninth month; almost to the day she'd announced she was going to have a child. The baby was beautiful, and the proud parents announced that they were naming her Caitlin. Brendan was enraptured with his baby sister, and Seamus often had to play by himself or with Declan for those first few months. Siobhan also seemed pleased that there was another little girl in the family. I too was delighted with my new niece. It was wonderful having so many children with us –five in all now- for, as Josephine pointed out, children are, above all, hope given human form.

Author's Note:

Ok, I know this was kinda short, but I couldn't help it. Or I didn't want to help it. Whatever. Anyway, you should be glad that I finished this episode so soon. I'd like to finish the whole series before school starts (I just know tenth grade is gonna suck) I'm so glad (still) that everyone's enjoying this. Thanks so much for the reviews, they really do mean a lot to me. And, in case you haven't noticed, yes, I do love music. All kinds of music. I can't imagine living without music, hence I added it many times in this story. Ok well, I'll have the next episode up asap. Thanks,

Luna Sealeaf


	12. Episode Twelve

**Earth's Children**

Summary: The parents of Harper tell their tale of life and love in Post-Commonwealth Earth.

Author: Luna Sealeaf

Rating: **PG-13** (for the ending)

Disclaimer: Again, I do not own any Andromeda characters, so don't sue me, etc. Nor do I own the lyrics of the songs both parents sing. I'm not making any profit, and since my total life savings accumulates to a whopping 8 bucks, there's really no point in suing me.

Archive: It didn't occur to me before, but if anyone wants to they can. I dunno where this fic would fit in though...

Summertime

an' de livin' is easy

fish are jumpin'

an' de cotton is high

oh yo' daddy's rich

an' yo ma's good lookin'

so hush little baby don' you cry

One of dese mornins

you goin' to rise up singin'

den you'll spread yo' wings

an' you'll take the sky

But till that mornin'

deres a nothin' can harm you

with daddy an' mommy standin' by

-Ancient Earth Lyrics (Porgy and Bess, George Gershwin..)

Episode Twelve

"Aunt Rose! Aunt Rose, look, I lost another one!"

The smiling little girl, red curls flying everywhere, practically threw herself onto my lap, hand held palm up so I could inspect the precious item she held. Feigning deep reverence and astonishment, I shook my head slowly.

"My, Siobhan, you sure are growing up fast." Laughing, I hugged her tightly until she squirmed away from my grasp.

"I'm going to go show Aunt Orla!" She exclaimed, and then raced up the stairs. With a yawn, I stood up from my chair and stretched, letting the clothing I'd been mending fall to the floor. Over the past few weeks it had been a constant race between Declan and Siobhan to see who lost their baby teeth the fastest. So far Siobhan was ahead by one, counting the tooth she'd just shown me. Feeling a tug on my knee length skirt (I wore black leggings underneath them) I looked down to smile at my four year old son.

"Momma, I lost a tooth too. See?" I knelt down in front of him, smiling fondly at his earnest blue gaze.

"Let's see then love," I held out my hand. Proudly Seamus deposited a handful of small pebbles into my hand. Holding his hand in my own for a moment, stroking it lovingly, I replied gently,

"These are lovely dear, but they're not teeth." His crestfallen face was almost immediately replaced by a small grin and a sparkle in his eye.

"I _know_ Momma, I was only pretending." It had become his favorite line lately.

I laughed to myself as he raced off, planning to go show 'Cousin Brendan' his 'teeth'.

"Declan? Where are you? It's your turn!" Orla came into the room, carrying a sleepy Caitlin on one hip. Not being able to resist the sight of my little blonde haired, brown eyed niece, especially when she was so adorable, I went to take her into my own arms.

"How'd she like her bath?" I asked, grinning. Orla returned my smile though her eyes were shadowed from lack of sleep. In the past two years we'd managed to settle into our new life fairly easily, but when Brendan and Seamus had come down with bad fevers, Seamus recovered from his by now; there had been little sleep for anyone.

"I think she screamed herself to exhaustion," She said, giving a small laugh and patting her daughter on the back.

"Anyway, I better go get Declan before the water's cold." I nodded and wandered around the small room quietly, letting Caitlin fall asleep on my shoulder. I'd surprised myself by wanting another baby these past two years. After Seamus'..._interesting_...birth, I had been sure that I would never want another child. Seeing Orla and Devin with both Caitlin and Brendan had changed my mind though. Besides, I wanted Seamus to have a sibling. Still, as Evan had pointed out when I confessed my wish to him, there was only so much he and I could do.

Looking out the small window by the door, I found myself smiling. This past year had treated us well. Food was as abundant as it could get, we'd been healthy, and there hadn't even been a whisper of any Magog attacks. If I just closed my eyes to the rest of the city, especially on a day like this, when the sun was shining unusually fiercely and the sky was a true blue, I could imagine that life was good. That Earth wasn't a slave planet. If I just ignored the screams in the night, from people attacking other people or from Nietzscheans having fun, if I just pretended that Devin and Evan were out wandering the streets rather than in the mines, if I just imagined that Liam and Lughna had moved away, instead of having their ashes scattered to the winds...

If, if, if. 'If' was a dangerous thing, and I refused to allow myself to walk down that path. Opening my eyes, I left the grimy window to lay Caitlin down for a nap.

"Daddy! Uncle Devin!" Hearing the door open, Seamus leaped down the stairs, leaving me to wince as I pictured what would happen should he trip, and flung himself into his father's outstretched arms. With a sound loud enough to wake the dead Siobhan and Declan came down after him, with cries of, "Uncle Evan! Uncle Devin!" The three got hugs from both dust-covered men before I shooed them away to give them my own hugs. Every day they came back safe and whole was a blessing. When we'd first moved here neither had reported for work. Carla and several other people had assured us that no one would notice; the Ubers were too busy. But just after Caitlin was born three Nietzschean guards had arrived at our house demanding to see them. Terrified that they would be killed, I tried to tell them to hide, but Evan refused. After roughing them up a bit, the Ubers ordered them to report to their jobs everyday from then on.

"Hello sis," Devin greeted me, smiling. I kissed his cheek, ignoring how bad he and my husband smelled.

"Devin," Orla followed down the stairs at a much more sedate pace than her nephews and niece. The two embraced while I went over to hug Evan, giving him a quick peck on the cheek as he smiled tiredly at me.

"How's Brendan and Caitlin?" Devin asked anxiously.

"Brendan's doing much better. Give him a day or two and he'll be running around with the rest of these little savages," Orla said with a smile. Of all the children, only Caitlin looked on the rest of us with silence. Although a few months past her second year, Caitlin had not uttered a sound except to cry. Orla and Devin were terribly worried about her, but we couldn't be sure whether she was deaf or just mute. Her mind, however, was intact, to our relief; she had learned to shake her head 'yes' and 'no' when asked a question she understood. Devin had talked about searching for someone who knew sign language, but there wasn't much chance of that happening. Although the ancient system of communication had survived, despite the fact that for hundreds of years deafness and blindness could both be cured by a simple operation, nowadays those with such disabilities rarely made it to old age which made it difficult to find people who still knew the silent language.

"We had baths today," Declan announced solemnly, breaking my train of thoughts.

"Really? That sounds like fun," Evan picked up Seamus with one arm and Declan with the other before finding the nearest chair and sitting down heavily.

"A bath sounds wonderful," Devin said wistfully. I nodded in sympathy with his request, running a hand through his spiked, dark hair.

"Sorry Devin, there's only enough water for a quick clean." He nodded before going to find his own chair, Caitlin going over to climb into his lap. Orla and I exchanged worried glances. We had both foregone bathing ourselves in hopes that there'd be enough for the boys; but we'd had to boil and re-boil the water so many times in order to get the children clean that there was only a bucketful left. Needless to say that we only went through this ordeal about twice a year. Clean water was harder and more expensive to come by then Evan's beer.

I volunteered to fix dinner, and Orla gave me a grateful smile. Going upstairs, she returned with Brendan and went to the last chair, making room for Siobhan to sit in her lap as well. The three adults talked, the children occasionally offering comments. I studied them all for a minute. When had we gotten so old? I it really be true?...twenty-eight! My mother had been only four years older than I was now when she was killed. If I died when I was only thirty-two, then Seamus would just be eight years old. The thought filled me with uneasiness as I watched his golden hair, the same color as his father's, and heard his childish laugh.

'Stop it!' I ordered myself. 'You simply have to make sure that nothing happens to you until he's old enough to take care of himself'. This thought wasn't comforting; to a mother, no child is ever old enough to take care of themselves.

Berating myself for such dark thoughts, I went into the kitchen and began putting a meal together. The conversation and laughter we shared over the dinner was enough to push all sad thoughts from my mind; for the time being, at least.

Later that night, lying in bed with Evan's arms around me and listening to the breathing of both him and Seamus, who was sleeping on a little bed at the other end of the room, I sighed with contentment. So many people were worse off than me and my family. Carla Bennet, for example. I couldn't imagine losing an eight year old daughter to such brutality. And if I did, at least I would have the rest of my family. As Carla had said herself, she had no one. No one except her 'boys'. Silently, eyes closed tightly, I begged to Fate, the Universe, God, whatever you wished to call it, that my family be spared further pain; surely we'd given up enough to last a life time. Like so many prayers; mine was not answered.

The next few weeks passed happily. Then a month, and then two. To my joyous surprise, I found myself to be pregnant, or at least I believed I was. When enough time had passed for me to be sure, I told Evan first, and then the others, with happiness glowing on my face. Pregnant or no, there was work to be done and other children to be taken care of and I had to continue to do my part.

On Saturdays, as usual, we attended the little gala underneath the streets of Boston. The music would rejuvenate us for another long, hard week of life, and we all waited with anticipation for the next Saturday. A few times I went out to visit friends; usually either Carla or Theresa and Vince. Of course, 'friend' was a relative term in the camp. You might share an evening of fun or swapping sad stories with a person. You may even see them everyday for months, exchange names, and meet the others' family, but if you met that same person late at night in a dark street and were alone, they could easily mug you without a second glance or regret. While I Trusted Carla –and even Theresa and Vince to some extent- I knew this truth as every other person living in Boston did.

Orla and I also took the children to and from school. This used to be Devin and Evan's job, but now they had to work in the mines all day. Sometimes Carla would accompany us; she had taken a deep liking to Siobhan, and although I worried about her using my niece as a replacement for her own daughter, I also knew that both children were as safe, or safer, with Carla than with Orla and I.

Then, one morning, our lives were changed horribly and forever. Though painful, I will be true to my memory and that of my family's, and do my best to describe what happened as fully as I can.

It started one night when first Caitlin, and then Brendan, awoke with high fevers. Although worried, this wasn't unusual, and the illness didn't seem life-threatening. For a few days Seamus seemed fine, so we assumed that neither he nor the twins had caught it.

I helped Orla take care of the children while our husbands went to work. I didn't have time to take the others to school, I was too busy, and so when Carla stopped by to help out, I was relieved beyond words. Two days after Caitlin and Brendan had fallen ill; Carla offered to help take the other three children to school. Orla assured me that she'd be fine with her two kids for a little while, so I agreed. Carla took Siobhan and Declan's hands as they skipped playfully beside her. I took hold of Seamus' hand, and we went through the streets with little care or worries to speak of. By now I was almost five months through my term, but luckily my stomach hadn't filled out enough to make it difficult to walk.

"Momma, I don't feel good," Seamus said in a quiet voice.

"Do you feel well enough to go to school?" I asked, leaning down to put a hand to his forehead. Carla paused, both children still holding her hands. Seamus shook his head tearfully and I sighed as I realized he had a fever. Murmuring comforting words, I picked him up and hugged him.

"You better take him back; he doesn't look too good." Carla said, looking at my son with sympathy.

"Will you be alright with those two?" I nodded to my niece and nephew.

"We'll be fine," Carla said softly, smiling down at the little girl. They both smiled up at her, and I gave a nod of consent.

"You two be good for Carla, ok? I'll see you later." I bent down to kiss their heads quickly, thanked Carla, and turned back towards home. Seamus whimpered softly and laid his head against my shoulder. Although he was heavy, I didn't mind carrying him. Lately he'd become too independent to allow himself to be cuddled by his mother very often. Only on occasions like this, when he wanted comforting, did he allow me to hold him. Together we passed other people in the streets in an effort to return home.

Then it happened.

The sky above us darkened suddenly. At first I assumed that a sky had passed over the sun, but when several people around me began to scream, my blood froze and I knew what it was. Breath catching in my throat, I looked up. Magog swarm ships. Again. But I didn't have time to dwell on the horror that was the Magog. Clutching Seamus tightly, I started to run, as did everyone else around us. At first I headed for home, but quickly I realized that it would take too long. We needed to find somewhere to hide _now_. Seamus started to cry, but I didn't have time to calm him down. I had to think. Where could I hide? There was an old saying that Magog disliked water. I don't know if that is true or not, but at the time it simply popped into my head. _The cave!_

Months ago, Evan and I had wandered around the ocean shore. There we learned of a small cave beneath the rocks. It was closer than home, so I changed directions and continued to run. (How I could manage to move so quickly in my condition, and carrying a child, is a testament to my fear. I can only attribute my sudden strength to the adrenaline that filled me)

All around me the city was erupting into chaos. Screams filled my ears; explosions made me flinch as the swarm ships blew buildings away. Then the scenery changed abruptly; I slipped on a few loose rocks and slid to the sandy beach. I didn't have time to check and see if Seamus had been hurt from the fall. Back on my feet in an instant, I reached the cave in record time. To my surprise, it was crowded. Thankfully people made room for me and I was soon jostled to the back of the cave, pushed up against the rock wall. The water reached my knees, making it difficult to keep my footing. Seamus clung to me tightly, making no noise.

Except for muffled crying around me and the gentle sound of water slapping against rock, there was no sound. My arms and back began to ache from holding Seamus. As the day wore on the water rose to my waist, and another fear began to fill my mind: had I escaped the Magog only to drown in a watery grave? The water didn't rise any higher though, and soon the worst part was just the long, nearly unbearable, waiting and not knowing what was happening outside. I couldn't remain standing for long, and eventually, as the water returned to a lower level, I sat down, still holding my son tightly. I checked his fever; it was still high. He shivered in my grasp. As time wore on, my thoughts drifted to the others; were they ok? The mines were surrounded by Nietzschean guards, surely enough to fight off Magog. At least I hoped so. Perhaps Evan and my brother could hide in the tunnels. And Orla, Brendan, and Caitlin? Our house had a cellar, much like the ones we'd made back in Dunwich; usually we kept food down there in case thieves entered our home. It could be locked from both the inside and the outside; they would be safe.

That left Siobhan and Declan, left alone with Carla. Their circumstances depended on where they had been when the Magog had attacked. Still, I had confidence in Carla's streetwise abilities. It was more than likely that she knew several good hiding places. In any case, there was nothing I could do, so worrying was pointless.

At last someone (more or less) volunteered to leave the small cavern and see what was happening. We waited tensely as time passed and they didn't return. When they finally did come back, it was with a somber mood. Slowly word reached the back of the cave; there were still Magog wandering the streets, but they were few, and the Ubers had, once again, beaten the monsters back. For a moment there was silence as everyone breathed in relief. Then panic for loved ones and possessions returned, and I was nearly crushed as people rushed out to find their homes. I considered staying there for awhile longer, just to be safe, but the thought of being alone in that cold and dark water-filled cavern was too much. I went out into the faint light along with the others.

My legs were stiff and tired from standing for so long. An entire day had passed; it was morning and the air was cold against our drenched skin and clothing. Seamus was shivering hard in my arms and I knew that I had to get him dry, warm, and fed, if I wanted our survival to mean anything.

Thousands of thoughts, some important, most meaningless, went through my mind as I walked back to our house. I had to make Seamus walk; my arms couldn't carry him any longer, and I needed a free hand to pull out the long knife I kept in my boot, gripping it tightly in my right hand, the other holding onto Seamus' just as hard. Every few steps I stopped and held a hand to my stomach; there had been a dull ache all through our time in the cave, but as every other part of my body hurt as well, I'd ignored it. Silently I promised both Seamus and the child I now carried that I would keep them safe, no matter what I had to do to keep that promise.

I almost cried with happiness and relief when I found my home still standing and, for the most part, undamaged. A small corner in the back had been burned when nearby buildings caught fire. I wasn't complaining.

"Oh thank the gods!"

"Orla!" I yelled in happiness as she flung her arms around me. The door to the cellar was still opened, and I assumed that she had just deemed it safe to come back up.

"Are you alright?" We both asked at once, looking each other over. Orla placed a hand on my stomach, but I smiled in an effort to reassure her.

"Josephine I was so worried!" Orla hugged me again before turning to Seamus.

"Oh...thank you, thank you..." She whispered as she picked up my son and hugged him, tears streaming down her face.

"Mommy?" Came a cry. A moment later Brendan climbed up out of the cellar; when he caught sight of me and Seamus, he ran over just as his mother had done.

"Aunt Rose! Shay!" He hugged my legs and I knelt to kiss him all over his face. Orla went to get Caitlin as well, and we spent a few moments just being glad that we were still alive. I asked her if she knew anything about the others, but she was just as clueless as I.

"I should go out and look for them," I said at last, my agitation increasing. Orla put a hand on my arm to stop me from standing.

"Josephine, you can't; not in your condition. And I can't leave you alone with the children either. We'll have to wait until Evan and Devin get back." She said, unusually firm. I didn't like it, but I accepted her decision. She was right; for the moment, there was little we could do. Lighting some candles and gathering blankets, I took Seamus into my lap, Brendan and Caitlin climbed into Orla's, and we waited for our husbands to return. Several people, some who we knew, others who were strangers, stopped by to beg for food or provisions, or news of their families. We gave them what we could; asking about our own lost ones each time. No one knew anything.

Evening came; the children, exhausted by the ordeal, fell asleep, and my sister-in-law and I waited in silence. Then, like music to our ears, the door opened and the two dirt-covered figures of the boys, men, I should say, came into the house.

Needless to say that with our cries of happiness, the children soon awoke.

"You're alive!" I cried, as the four of us clung to each other.

"The kids?" Evan asked tersely. He looked over my shoulder and I felt him relax slightly when he saw Seamus. After the children had greeted their fathers, and vice versa, I explained what had happened to Siobhan and Declan, both alone with Carla. Despite how tired they were neither Evan nor my brother hesitated.

"You two stay here, we'll go find them." Evan said quietly. His eyes held mine for a moment, and then he nodded to Devin and the two of them left once more. Caitlin started to cry as her father left, and while Orla comforted her I distracted Brendan and Seamus with stories. More hours passed; Orla tried to get me to lie down and rest, but I refused. Instead we put the children to bed for the night and again waited in silence. It was near midnight, I think, when they finally returned.

When we heard their footsteps Orla rushed to the door to let them in while I gathered blankets and my few remaining herbal medicines, just in case. I heard Orla gasp and I turned around, afraid of what I would mind. My fears were justified, for in Devin and Evan's arms were the stiff, prone figures of my niece and nephew.

"They can't be..." Orla bit her lip, too overcome to continue.

"They're alive," Devin said quietly, going to lay Declan down on a blanket. Evan followed behind him with Siobhan. Relieved at their words, I knelt awkwardly to look at their wounds. Both were covered in blood; a chunk of hair was gone from Declan's head and blood covered the spot where it had been. Both of their clothing was torn to rags, and there were large, bloody bite marks on their necks...

"NO! Oh no..." My hand flew to my mouth as I staggered to my feet. Evan came behind me, gripping my shoulders.

"What's wrong?" Orla asked anxiously. I could almost feel the blood drain from my face as I turned, shaking so hard that I couldn't feel my hands.

"They've been infested." I struggled to get each word out.

"What can we do?" Orla had taken my place by the twins, taking a rag and trying to clean off the blood that had dried on their face.

"I think they've been paralyzed..." Devin said quietly. I looked at Evan, but he too seemed at a loss. I looked back down at the two children, nearly eight years old, and their eyes the only part of them that, for the moment, could move. They were wide with fear.

"I don't know...I just...don't...know..." I felt myself slipping away, and the last image I recall is that of the still bodies lying on the floor.

"Josephine, Josephine, wake up." A hand was running through my hair in an effort to soothe me. Although I wanted to continue sleeping, my eyes disobeyed me and opened. Above me, the face of Evan smiled and kissed me.

"How are you feeling?" He asked. I could sense that he was anxious, though he kept his voice calm.

"Tired..." I started to say, my throat dry. "I –I hurt." I said suddenly as pain gripped me.

"What happened?" Memories flooded through my mind, but it was too much and I couldn't make sense of them.

"You, you lost the baby love. Orla said she thinks it was the trauma of it all, but..."

"I miscarried?" His words didn't make much sense to me, but he nodded in response to my question. So that explained the pain I felt in every part of my body.

"Declan! Siobhan, where are they?" I struggled to sit up, and Evan helped to me to stand.

"You have to be careful Josephine; otherwise I won't let you out of this bed." Evan said sternly. But he helped me to go down the stairs, one at a time, talking as he did.

"They can move now, but we still don't know what to do. We've asked everyone I know, but the only advice they offered was...unacceptable." His voice turned hard and bitter at the end.

"What happened to Carla?" I asked quietly.

"She was ripped to pieces, near where we found the twins." He said tersely. I nodded, not commenting except to ask,

"What do you mean, 'unacceptable'?"

"They said the only thing to do is to kill them, to keep the Magog from hatching. Kill them? My own flesh and blood? Rose, they're...they're Liam's...I can't.." His voice caught and I said, softly,

"I know."

We made it to the bottom of the stairs, and the twins were laying where I had last seen them, though this time their faces turned to look at me. Siobhan offered a brave smile and tried to say my name. I went over to their sides, feeling terrible that I hadn't been there for them when they needed me. All of us were at our wits end. Days passed, broken only by the sound of the screams of Declan and Siobhan. Seamus had tried to go sit by them, but when they screamed, he had run to my arms crying. After that, he and Caitlin stayed upstairs. None of us knew what to do. But the decision was soon made for us. Every night one of us stayed downstairs with them; it was my turn, and as soon as I'd drifted to sleep, I awoke to Declan's painful scream, and Siobhan's frightened one.

Rushing to their side, I turned on a few lights, trying to see what was wrong. Declan's stomach was moving more than it had in the past few days. Suddenly I knew what was happening. It was like a nightmare: I tried to scream for help, but my voice had left me. Stumbling to the wall, I knocked into a table and something clattered to the floor. Declan's cries for help increased, as did Siobhan's. Looking down, I saw what had dropped to the floor. My knife. It was fate, if there is such a thing. I knelt down, feeling as though I were still in a dream, taking the knife into my hands.

"Forgive me." I said, finally finding my breath. The words were said to everyone; Liam, Lughna, the two children whose lives I was about to take. No, that wasn't fair; their lives had already been taken, I was only ending the suffering they had left. I walked over to their side, clutched them to me for a moment, and then cut Declan's throat. Siobhan stopped screaming, she was so shocked. I held her a moment longer then did the same. Blood was everywhere; on me, on the floor. I considered taking my own life then and there, just to watch my blood mingle with theirs. I lifted the blade to my own throat, but before I could my hand was knocked away roughly. The others, hearing their screams, had rushed downstairs, but luckily not until after the terrible deed had been done.

"I'm so sorry," I cried, looking up wildly into the faces surrounding me. No one said anything, but Evan lifted me into his arms and carried me upstairs to my bed, leaving Devin and Orla to take care of the twins. He told me to try and sleep, but I couldn't. Instead I cried that entire, long night, into his shoulder as he held me, and I felt his tears on me; the blood of Liam's children staining both of us.

Author's Note:

Thanks so much for the reviews and the support (both for the story and for real life) I can't give you guys enough thanks; this story means a lot to me and I'm glad others are reading and liking it as well. I hope the next episode will be happier, but I can't make any promises...

-Luna Sealeaf


	13. Episode Thirteen

**Earth's Children**

Summary: The parents of Harper tell their tale of life and love in Post-Commonwealth Earth.

Author: Luna Sealeaf

Rating: PG-13 (Just to be safe)

Disclaimer: Again, I do not own any Andromeda characters, so don't sue me, etc. Nor do I own the lyrics of the songs both parents sing. I'm not making any profit, and since my total life savings accumulates to a whopping 7 bucks, there's really no point in suing me.

Archive: It didn't occur to me before, but if anyone wants to they can. I dunno where this fic would fit in though...

"'Pain is just weakness leaving the body',"

"What kind of an idiot said _that_?"

"I don't know, but I'm guessing it wasn't a doctor."

-From the stand-up of Veryl Guthrup CY 1735

Episode Thirteen

How come we never realize how much we need something until it's gone?

Twice I had come very close to losing Josephine: first when she was having Seamus, and now the miscarriage following the Magog attack. I hadn't realized how precious she was to me until I descended those stairs that night and saw her, covered in blood, with a knife at her own throat. I was sad that she'd lost the child, but I also knew she meant more to me than anything in this world.

With a few possible exceptions, such as Seamus, Brendan, Caitlin, Devin, and my own twin sister, Orla.

It was nice to know that I still needed two hands to count my blessings on.

Those first few weeks after Siobhan and Declan's death were the hardest we've ever known. No matter how many times Orla, Devin, and I assured Josephine that there was nothing to forgive, she still blamed herself. I knew it was killing her, but what could I do? Brendan and Seamus didn't know what to make of it. They had heard the screams, as we all had that night, but when they tried to come downstairs we told them to stay put.

When first Seamus, and then Brendan, demanded to know what had happened to their older cousins, we simply told them that they had died from Magog wounds. It was all so hard. For a few days, I couldn't even look at Josephine without seeing the twins, throats cut, blood everywhere. Don't get me wrong; none of us blamed her. Our minds told us that we would have done the same; indeed, we should have been grateful that Josephine had spared Orla and me the hardship of killing Liam's children.

But still, it was hard, for all of us.

If we were still in Dunwich, I'd take her and Seamus away for awhile. Maybe go set up a small camp somewhere, far enough away that she could be at peace for a short time.

But this wasn't Dunwich; this was Boston, a city where the people and the buildings crowded in around us. The closest we could come to escaping the concrete cage was to go to the ocean. And we did go there, whenever I could convince Josephine to leave the house.

I was able to spend so much time with her because one good thing had come of the Magog attack; the mines had been destroyed; so Devin and I were free, at least for now.

Despite my presence, and her brother's, I don't think Josephine could have made it without our son. Seamus, all of five at the time, was the only one who could get her to smile.

Somehow, two years went by. Two slow, painful, and virtually silent years. Seven hundred and thirty days of famine (the Magog had destroyed nearby food plants) and at least a dozen sicknesses that swept through the city every summer. In spite of everything; life continued.

The children grew, we survived to gain gray hairs, and there were even happy moments: Seamus and Brendan, taking turns dancing with Caitlin on Saturday nights, even though she showed no sign of being able to hear the music. The sight of Josephine's face in the morning light. The smile Orla would give me when I teased her or Devin. The jokes and pranks Devin and I pulled on each other in an effort to lighten our moods.

Fatherhood had also proved to be a balm on my soul. Just when things were at their worst, I'd think of Seamus, my little boy, and I'd discover a reserve of determination and courage. Although the death of his cousins had subdued him for quite some time, he was still a cheery little boy. And so smart! At seven, he was always pestering everybody with questions, wanting to know how everything worked. Of course, there was only so much we could tell him, not knowing the answer to most of his questions. Some evenings, I'd take him for walks outside, just the two of us, so he could explore.

One evening we were out later than I had anticipated, and the light was sinking fast. It was never a good idea to be outside at night, not if you couldn't defend yourself. I had several weapons hidden on me, but I didn't like the idea of having Seamus with me. My fears were justified when, only a few blocks away from home, two dark figures appeared from the streets. And I highly doubted that this time we'd be saved by Carla.

"Evening." I said loudly, gripping Seamus' hand.

"Hand the boy over and we'll let you live." The voice was hard and cold. The two forms were circling us, and I sneered. _Collaborators._ If they wanted Seamus, then they had to be slavers as well; handing slaves, especially young, trainable ones, to the Nietzscheans was a sure way to get special favors.

"I don't think so." I let go of Seamus' hand and drew out two short knives; paid for with three bottles of beer and a basket of food. Neither man looked very tough; obviously threats were what usually got them what they wanted. Before either one could move, I lunged. Even as the first man was falling to the ground in a pool of his own blood, the other grabbed Seamus and turned to run. Cursing, I ran after him. I would have thrown my knife, but I didn't trust my aim in the dark.

Still, he wasn't as reckless as I, and didn't move very fast on the uneven ground at night. I was on top of him in mere moments, and...well, let's just say that he'd never threaten another child again.

"Dad?" I helped Seamus to his feet; he was staring at me with fear, eyes wide. Catching my breath, I summoned a grin and swung him up to one shoulder.

"Yeah son?"

"You –you killed them." It wasn't a question, and I wasn't sure how to interpret his tone. Who can tell what seven year olds are thinking?

"Yes, I did, but it doesn't matter. We're still alive, that's all that counts."

"Ok." Two simple letters and I knew he'd accepted my words without question. By the time we returned home he was laughing as I teased him; the matter forgotten.

It was lucky that the children often amused themselves, Seamus the undeclared leader, or else they would surely have driven all of us crazy. As it was, while we four adults would sit around and talk, or practice a little bit of fighting, the three of them would be running around, upstairs and then downstairs, inside, then outside, laughing and doing who knows what else.

"What is it?" I asked Orla once when I saw her watching them, tears in her eyes. It was just the two of us, Devin and Josephine having gone out for food. She turned and gave me a small smile. It shocked me to see how much older she looked; gone was my young, delicate sister. In her place was a mother; strong and a little rougher around the edges.

"I'm just so glad that, despite whatever's wrong with her, Caitlin can still look so happy." Her words broke off and I smiled as well, rubbing her shoulder gently. Following her gaze, I watched Seamus and Caitlin chase Brendan in some form of tag; Caitlin's brown eyes were wide and a smile shown across her face.

"I only wish I could talk to her..." She whispered, the smile gone, but the tears remaining. I felt my own smile slip away, and gave a soft sigh. I could only imagine how hard it was for her; if she called out her daughter's name, Caitlin would not even turn to look at us. It was hard for me too; she was my only niece, now, and I would have loved to tell her stories about her grandparents, Uncle Liam, Aunt Lughna...

"She knows that you love her, and she loves you. That's something at least." I finally said. Orla simply nodded, then moved to go upstairs. I watched her go before shaking my head sadly for a moment. Then, putting a grin on my face, I went to go join the children.

"Hey guys can I play?" I asked Brendan and Seamus. Brendan looked at Seamus, who shrugged, then turned to Caitlin.

"Caitlin, can Dad play with us?" I was about to explain that Caitlin couldn't understand what he was saying when, to my astonishment, she turned her golden head, gave Seamus, then me, a long look, and nodded firmly.

"'K, you can play with us." Seamus announced. I tried to say something, but the three of them had dashed away before I could get the words out. What had just happened? Could Caitlin hear better than we thought? Was it just forming the words that was a problem? I didn't know; so I watched Caitlin carefully as we played. She never let out a sound, except to laugh a few times in her odd-sounding voice, but she always knew how the game was played, even though no one took extra care to explain the rules to her.

It was mind boggling, but also gave me hope. Anxiously I waited till Josephine and Devin got home so I could tell everyone about my discovery.

I waited until we'd eaten and the kids were put to bed before telling everyone the good news. Devin and Orla were stunned at first, but then quickly asked me for every detail of what had happened. Josephine remained silent, except to give her brother and Orla a quick smile. When we were alone in the kitchen, cleaning up, I went to her side and asked why she didn't seem so surprised.

"I guess I just always knew she was...more aware than she seemed." I didn't understand what she meant and told her so, but she only shrugged.

"She's a smart little girl." Was all she'd tell me. We were silent for a few minutes, before I added,

"Seamus is pretty smart too." I glanced over at her, surprised to see that she'd stopped working and was staring, eyes unfocused, at the wall.

"He deserves so much better than this. They all do." She replied, though she didn't move to look at me.

"We can only do what we can." How lame a response was that? But I could think of nothing better to say.

"Maybe he'll save himself someday." She said, her voice losing its normal edginess. It left her sounding hopeful –vulnerable. Something Josephine almost never was. Almost.

"If there's a way, I'm sure he'll find it."

"And take the others with him...?" The question was not directed to me; the words were said quietly, as though asked of some strange presence that I could not see. I guess she was given an answer because, as I watched, her expression seemed to stiffen ever so slightly before she gave a soft sigh.

"What?" She asked, the hardness back in her voice as she turned to see me staring at her.

"Nothing..." I lied, and returned to my cleaning.

So the seasons passed, slowly but surely. Where once we looked forward to summer; with its warmth, beauty, and promise of food at the end, now we waited for the heat with dread. For as the days grew hotter, sickness spread. Food would go bad faster, and it rarely rained in the city.

Two weeks into the first hot month, the schools were closed because so many of the volunteer teachers were ill. I remember offering to go get Seamus and walk him home, on the last day the school was open, so that Josephine could stay home and rest. She'd been looking pale lately, and I decided she should conserve her energy.

The school was easy to find, and while Orla walked with Brendan and Caitlin in front of us, I took Seamus' hand and followed.

"Dad, was Earth ever really free?" He asked me, his voice showing that clearly he didn't believe whoever had told him this.

"Yes; for a long time Earth was free and independent. Then it joined the Commonwealth, and things got better because the planet united..." It was hard recalling the ancient history lessons I'd had with my parents; of course, the Commonwealth Era really wasn't too long ago, compared to the rest of Earth's history.

"What happened?" He asked, kicking at a chunk of broken rubble. I chided him for being so careless with his shoes before answering.

"It fell, and the Nietzscheans took over Earth."

"Why didn't we stop them?"

"Because...we were afraid of the Magog, and besides, the Nietzscheans used to live by us in peace. They are human, after all, deep down in their genes." I could see he looked confused. Maybe I was getting a little deep for a seven year old; but then suddenly his blue eyes, clear and solemn, looked up at me and he nodded.

"Oh...we trusted them." His tone made it clear that this had been an obvious mistake. Sighing, I tried to change the subject.

"So, are you going to miss school?" I asked, already knowing the answer.

"Yes. But Isaac said he'd come visit me and Brendan." The last part caught me by surprise.

"Who's Isaac?" I couldn't remember hearing that name before.

"He's my friend."

"Ah." Seamus didn't explain further, and I decided not to question him. I could always ask Josephine or Brendan when we got home.

That summer was one of the worst I could remember since we'd come to Boston. Even the Ubers stopped their usual raids and 'invasions' of the Human ghetto. Plague sent most people to holing up in their homes. We were no exception. Other than quick trips to the market to see if there was any food to be had, we stayed inside. The boys complained bitterly, so Devin and I did our best to keep them amused.

For a long time, none of us fell sick. When the illness did enter our house, it didn't strike one of the children, as we feared it would.

One afternoon Orla simply collapsed. Other than a headache, she hadn't complained of feeling poorly, and as she'd always been hale and strong, none of us thought she would take ill.

Devin beat me to her side and, apparently stronger than I took him for, had her in his arms and was rushing upstairs before I could say a thing. Following him closely, I called for Josephine to come quickly as we brought Orla to her bed.

"I'm fine..." She tried to protest softly. Devin was having none of it. He surprised me by his firmness.

"Hush, you are not well, and I'm not going to let you get any worse." Leaving no room for argument, he kissed her forehead and smiled. Seeing how tenderly she smiled back, accepting his words, I felt a strange twinge of jealousy. It was silly; they had been together for nearly ten years and I'd never begrudged their feelings for each other. Maybe I'd just been too caught up in my own passion for Josephine, but I realized how much my sister meant to me, and I quickly took up the place on her other side.

"Evan, you and Devin worry too much about me," She turned her head, face clammy to the touch, to give me a small smile. Despite the years, time could not change her beautiful voice; soft and lilting, her Irish 'accent' (as Devin and Josephine called it) just as strong as ever.

"No, you just don't worry enough," I contradicted, smiling back at her. Then Josephine rushed in and started to shoo us away. Devin refused to go, and I could tell she was perturbed by her little brother, who'd always done what she told him to in the past.

"Fine, but don't get in my way." She snapped at last, kneeling by Orla with a bowl of water, bandages, and other such things. Knowing that I'd be needed to watch the kids, I slowly made my way downstairs, feet heavy. I wasn't too worried though; to be honest, the thought of a few germs concurring Orla was laughable. My sister might seem soft and gentle at first, but she was like a silk tapestry over a brick wall. No matter how hard one might try to defeat her, she wouldn't budge when she made up her mind about something.

But those 'few germs' were tougher than we thought. Orla didn't recover in a day or two. It took an entire month before she could stand again. We didn't let Caitlin or Brendan see her, because we were afraid that they'd catch the illness as well. Caitlin started to cry when she couldn't see her mother, but Brendan was old enough to understand why he wasn't allowed in their room. Seamus didn't accept our words as easily.

"I want to see Aunt Orla," He demanded, about a week after she'd fallen ill. Josephine, tired from spending every moment taking care of her, took him aside and said, firmly but quietly,

"Seamus, you're just going to have to be patient, like Brendan." She nodded to his cousin, who was watching them in silence. Seamus scowled at her but stopped fussing and complaining. With a heavy sigh Josephine stood, watching her son and nephew playing on the floor. I walked over to her, rubbing her shoulders gently.

"He looks just like Devin." It took me a moment to understand what she was talking about, but then I glanced at Brendan and saw what she meant.

"Did Devin have spiky hair too?" I asked, grinning. I could practically feel her roll her eyes. Of course he hadn't; only people in the city used the strange, sticky mixture of chemicals to do such hairstyles. I myself actually rather liked it; although if one used it for very long, it started to bleach your hair.

"No, and I'm sure you didn't either. But it's more than that. Caitlin's a mix of the two; but Brendan...he's just like his father."

"Which one of us is Seamus like?" At my question, she turned to smile at me.

"Well, he looks like you, but I'm trying to get his better nature to surface." She winked and I found myself laughing, giving her a quick hug. A moment later she went to go see Orla and left me alone to stare at the three children.

I don't mean to sound coldhearted, but one of the worst parts of all this was having to sleep on the floor with the kids. Neither Brendan nor Seamus could go through a night without waking up from a nightmare. Only Caitlin could sleep peacefully. Brendan would wake up with a loud cry, but Seamus would just lie there, tossing and turning, sometimes muttering in his sleep, until finally I would have to shake him awake. Other times, I'd wake up, sensing something was wrong, to find him already up, lying silently on the floor and shaking with fear from whatever nightmare he'd just experienced.

All in all, it was a very exhausting month, for everyone. But at last Orla recovered. We celebrated with a visit underground to listen to music, as well as a special dinner. Although ecstatic to see her children and nephew again, Orla never fully regained her old strength. Her body was thinner than ever; her clothes practically hanging on her, and she would lose her breath if she even walked too fast. Josephine was stern in her orders for Orla to rest and not exert herself.

Still, old strength or no, I was just glad that Orla had survived. For a long time Devin had been terrified (as we all had) that she would not make it. But she pulled through, and with the first days of biting cold, the sickness in the city ended.

Life went back to normal; the Nietzschean raids started up again, as did the usual crime in the city. But people also started leaving their homes again; food was easier to get, and the school was reopened.

Things in our family were calm for a long time, something we were always grateful for. Most of our time was spent taking care of the kids. Sometimes we would just sit and watch them play; they never seemed to mind having an audience, and their laughter helped to push back the dark thoughts that dwelled inside us.

I remember one interesting night quite well. It was late, and everyone was sleeping. Or at least, they were supposed to be sleeping. I had just drifted into a light doze when I heard the floor creak. I opened one eye to make sure it wasn't a rat and was surprised to see the form of my son slipping through the door. I waited a minute, and then got up quietly to follow him.

As I entered the small hallway I saw his form disappear into the third floor room. What could he possibly be doing in there? My curiosity growing, I crept down the stairs and paused just outside the room.

"What'd you want to show me, cuzo?" Brendan whispered loudly. Seamus shushed him and I guess brought something out for him to see. I heard two gasps and Seamus' laughter, quickly cut off.

"Where'd you get it?" I again heard Brendan, this time his voice filled with awe.

"From the library, after school. No one even noticed."

I frowned; Seamus had stolen something? What could he possible have wanted to steal from the library? I considered confronting them, but decided to wait for a few more minutes.

"What does it say?" Again, Brendan was asking Seamus a question.

"Can't you read? It's about e –e –elect-er-oniks. And mekan-iks,"

"That sounds boring; couldn't you have found one with stories?"

"This is way better than stories Brendan, those are for little kids. This stuff is real. It's about tech –techno-ology. Remember what Lisa said? Techno-ology can change the world."

"I like stories," Brendan protested defiantly. Whatever Seamus had stolen, it obviously wasn't going to be missed; much. Still, I figured it was about time I made my presence known.

"Brendan Lahey. Seamus Zelazny Harper." I stood in the doorway, arms crossed and staring at the two boys –faces stricken with fear at being found- as I spoke.

"Um...hi Dad." Seamus offered me a brilliant smile. I scowled and it faltered some.

"So, mind showing me what you two have been looking at?" I walked over to them and held out a hand. The two boys exchanged looks; Seamus mouthed the word 'No' to Brendan, but my nephew at least proved less stubborn, and he held out –my jaw almost dropped at the sight- a lit flexi. I hadn't seen one for years, although I knew, in the back of my mind, that the library in the Museum kept many preserved, though most no longer worked, or were in a different language.

"Did you two steal this?" I asked solemnly as I stared at the flexi in my hands.

"I took it from the library," Seamus said before Brendan had a chance to speak.

"So you did steal it." Seamus shifted uncomfortably, not meeting my gaze.

"It's not like anyone's gonna read it. It's boring."

"Really? Then why did you take it?" As I spoke my eyes scanned the page; it had been a long time since I'd actually read this sort of thing, and I had to look over it several times before I understood what it was. When I did, I found myself frowning. It was instructions on how to build –something. Some kind of machine. I looked back at Seamus.

"I just thought it'd be interesting..." He muttered, staring at the floor. Brendan, at his side, remained silent.

"Well, we're going to have to return it in the morning. I doubt, as you said, that anyone's missed it. For now, you two get back to bed."

"Yes Uncle Evan," Brendan mutter, shot a glare at Seamus, and then raced from the room. Seamus turned sullenly and started to walk out the door.

"Seamus, did you understand any of this?" I gestured to the words on the page. He glanced at the flexi, then at me, suspicious at my question and obviously trying to decide what the 'right' answer was.

"Yeah, some of it." He shrugged noncommittally. I was wide awake myself, and not quite ready to return to bed.

"I suppose I could read you some of this...but you may have to ask your mother about some of it, she knows more than me when it comes to this stuff." Seamus looked at me uncertainly for a minute, than grinned.

So we spent the rest of the night in the dark, him sitting at my side, as I read the strange words out loud. I was sure he'd be asleep by the time I was done, since it wasn't after all, that interesting. But he stayed awake through the entire flexi, appearing to have understood every word at least as well as me.

But then, as I said, my son was a smart kid.

Author's Note:

This is officially the longest fanfiction I've ever written. And it's still got a few chapters to go; I'm estimating about four, but I can't be positive. Hope you enjoyed this (I tried to keep it fairly happy, while still making it interesting.) And thanks for the reviews for the last few chapters. You readers are great! Thanks,

Luna Sealeaf


	14. Episode Fourteen

Earth's Children

Summary: The parents of Harper tell their tale of life and love in Post-Commonwealth Earth.

Author: Luna Sealeaf

Rating: PG-13 (Just to be safe)

Disclaimer: Again, I do not own any Andromeda characters, so don't sue me, etc. Nor do I own the lyrics of the songs both parents sing. I'm not making any profit, and since my total life savings accumulates to a whopping 7 bucks, there's really no point in suing me.

Archive: It didn't occur to me before, but if anyone wants to they can. I dunno where this fic would fit in though...

My life goes on in endless song

above earth's lamentations,

I hear the real, though far-off hymn

that hails a new creation.

Through all the tumult and the strife

I hear it's music ringing,

It sounds an echo in my soul

How can I keep from singing?

-Ancient Earth song (Enya)

Episode Fourteen

What a strange summer, and then winter, it had been. First Orla's sickness, thank Whatever Deity That Lives she survived, and then Seamus' strange theft of the flexi from the library.

I remember waking up one morning to find my husband and my son, shadows under their eyes, grinning from ear to ear. Evan explained how Seamus had stolen the flexi, and at first I assumed he wanted me to reprimand him. Then Evan showed me the flexi with an air of pride and I took a look at it, confused by both of their behaviors.

Well; it was a blueprint for a machine. What was the big deal? I shrugged, handed it back to Evan, and told Seamus that he had to return it. I was all for rolling over and returning to bed, but Evan impatiently handed the flexi back to me.

"Seamus understood all of it." He tried to explain; of course, this was no explanation at all.

"That's great honey," I directed this towards Seamus, whose smile was gone and was now staring from his father to me.

"No, I mean he understood the instructions. Didn't you Seamus?" Evan glanced at the boy, who shrugged.

"I think I did. It's not like we have any of the right materials or nothing, but sure, I knew what it meant." He shrugged again, gaze down to the floor. I still wasn't quite sure what Evan's point was so I asked Seamus to go downstairs and see if his aunt or uncle were up while I got dressed. He gave a nod before racing through the door and down the stairs.

"I was just surprised I guess. Not many kids his age could claim to understand it," Evan tossed the flexi on the bed.

"Surprised? By Seamus? Evan, haven't you realized by now how different he is? He's not even nine yet and he's smarter than I was at thirteen. But we've already had this conversation, remember?" I smiled to Evan as I slipped a vest on over my shirt and tied the strings. He shrugged, looking slightly sullen, but I assumed that it was because he'd been up all night. Giving him a kiss –he tried to put his arms around me and continue it, but I pushed away gently,

"We have to get breakfast ready," I reminded him. And the rest of our day continued as they normally did. While the kids were at school, I went for a walk with Evan. We didn't get to be alone as much anymore, and it was nice with just the two of us.

When spring finally came, it brought many things I hadn't noticed into light. Such as the fact that my little boy, my only living child, would be turning nine years old in a few short months. My nephew, Brendan, was turning nine _this_ month, and my eleventh anniversary with my husband would be celebrated this year. How was it possible? How had eleven years of my life passed so quickly? It would have been depressing if I wasn't so happy. My youth might be gone, but I was left with something better. Family.

There were two small celebrations over those three months; one for Brendan, and one for Evan and me. Caitlin, my beautiful but silent niece, had already been given a small party when she'd turned seven earlier that year.

It was around this time of happiness and, for the most part, content, that Evan met Randal. Evan explained to me that Randal had been a coworker with him and Devin in the mines, and the three had been friendly acquaintances. When Evan met up with him at the market, he invited him back to our house for dinner.

I didn't like Randal from the first moment I saw him. I couldn't say why exactly, and I didn't voice my opinion, but I couldn't help my instant dislike. None of the others seemed to share my feelings; Randal was at least ten years older than all of us, a widower with no children, and a friendly manner about him. Tall and thin, with gray hair, he told wild stories of barely escaping Nietzscheans and Magog, and had many humorous tales and jokes.

I was polite since there was no reason for my strange feeling of dislike. Randal was nothing if not impeccably polite. He once remarked that I reminded him of his wife, only I was more beautiful, according to him. Evan grinned, but I had to force a smile, thinking it was a strange comment. However, since the others enjoyed his company so much, he was invited for dinner often. Even Brendan took a liking to him, and Randal would always say that if he could have had a son, he would have wanted one like Brendan. Caitlin ignored him, but then, she ignored most people she didn't see every day. As for Seamus, well...he was the only person who seemed to share my dislike of Randal.

He'd sit at the table, silent, and eat quietly, not even looking over at our guest. Since I did pretty much the same, I didn't pay too much attention to this. But when Seamus started being outright rude to him, Evan would lecture him sternly on his manners. Randal would protest that it was alright; many kids were shy of him. After that I started watching Seamus. One evening, while the others were in the main room, I asked him to help me clean up.

"Why don't you like Randal?" I asked him quietly as he handed me a dish.

"But –but you don't like him either." His blue eyes were wide as he said this. I nearly dropped the dish.

"What makes you think that?" I said in a calmer manner than I felt; studying his face, which was already handsome at his young age.

"I dunno, I can just tell." He shrugged, obviously not being able to describe with any more details. I sighed and put the dish away.

"Well, we have no reason to not like him, so we must do our best to be polite."

I could tell that he wanted to protest; ask his customary 'why?' whenever we gave him a rule that didn't seem to make sense. But I repeated my first question before he could say anything else. Seamus pondered his answer for a moment before answering.

"I'm not sure; he just seems...weird." I couldn't agree more, but I didn't tell Seamus this. As the parent, I couldn't condone unwarranted bad behavior. So I instructed him to be nicer; he didn't have to like Randal, but he couldn't be rude.

For a long time, there was nothing more to it. Randal continued to be a guest for many nights, but I had more important things to worry about than him. For example; Seamus' birthday.

I was planning a small party; trying to find ingredients for his favorite foods, something that was never easy in the beginning of summer, and trying to convince Evan that nine years old was too young to allow him to drink beer. I was also thinking about having him invite some of his friends over. He and Brendan had a close friend from school; his name was Isaac, and I often saw the three of them playing outside. Isaac had darker skin and was a few inches taller than both Brendan and Seamus. I hadn't met him, but I heard both boys talking about their escapades at school with him. All in all he sounded like a nice boy.

Then, only a week before Seamus' birthday, he came home with a dark bruise on his cheek and several on his ribs. I was surprised to see him in such a state and when I asked him what had happened, he refused to say anything. I asked Brendan, who claimed that he didn't know either. Orla was worried as well; she tried to get both boys to tell her what had happened, but neither would talk to her either.

"Let it go Orla; he probably just got into a fight at school," Devin finally said after Orla had complained that neither would tell her what happened.

"Yeah, these hot summer days get a boy's temper up." Evan agreed.

"What can you expect from a kid whose half-Irish, they're always fighting..." Devin was teasing Evan, who took a playful swing at him, but Orla's glare and voice quickly silenced him.

"_Brendan's_ half Irish...in case you forgot." Her icy tone quickly made my brother give her a sheepish grin.

Eventually we had to let it go; Seamus wasn't badly hurt, and since he refused to tell us what happened we had to assume that it had been, as his father and uncle had said, a schoolboy fight. With his birthday plans finished and the day fast approaching, I didn't think much of it.

The night before Seamus' birthday, we were all gathered in the main room; the kids were playing some kind of card game (I still couldn't understand how Caitlin always seemed to know how such things were played, yet showed no hint of hearing us when we explained the rules to her) Orla and I were talking about the food we'd prepared for the next day, and Evan was playing a soft tune on his tin whistle while Devin sipped a small glass of beer.

"Say, maybe I ought to invite Randal over tomorrow; he'd enjoy the company since he lives alone..." Evan had finished one song and looked over to me as he made his suggestion. I was about to shrug when Seamus' voice cut through the air.

"_No_. I don't want him here." All of us turned in surprise at him, and Evan was frowning. Under our scrutiny Seamus suddenly seemed uncomfortable.

"Why not cuzo? Randal's funny," Brendan protested. I was staring intently at my boy, but although he cast a glare in his cousin's direction, he only shrugged at our inquiries. I could tell that Evan wanted to insist that his friend be invited, but I spoke first.

"That's alright Seamus; it's your birthday." I smiled at him and cast Evan a warning glance. The matter wasn't discussed for the rest of the night.

The next day went as planned and everyone had lots of fun. As I had expected, Seamus did invite Isaac over, and I was pleased to find that he seemed like a nice boy. He was polite; more so than Seamus was at times, which surprised me. Most parents didn't bother to teach their kids to be polite, and who could blame them? I scarcely had time to do so, and I was better off than other people, some who didn't even have a home and had to constantly fight to survive.

Our good mood only lasted for a few days though.

One afternoon I was the only one in the house; Devin, Orla, and Evan had all gone to the market and were planning to make a day of it. I had volunteered to stay home and wait for the kids, who were old enough to walk home by themselves. Suddenly I heard someone burst through the door, shouting loudly to see who it was.

"Brendan, what's the matter?" I asked, going to the front of the house. He was out of breath and before he could answer, Seamus followed him inside. I gasped and had to bite my lip to keep from shouting myself. Seamus had blood trickling from his mouth and a cut on his forehead, one hand clutched at his chest and he limped slightly. However his attention was not towards me; he was glaring at Brendan with such intensity I almost wondered if the two had gotten into a fight.

"Shut up Brendan!" He ordered sharply, wincing as he struggled to take a breath.

"What happened?" I asked, rushing to Seamus' side and ignoring his attempts to flee from my hold. I looked over the cut on his forehead; it wasn't serious, but as I checked the spot where he clutched with his hand, he grimaced again and I knew he had at least one cracked rib. Brendan started to say something, but again Seamus lashed out.

"_Shut up_ Brendan!" They glared at each other for a few minutes till I reprimanded Seamus for shouting at his cousin like that. Looking from one to the other, I realized that Caitlin wasn't with them. Before I could ask where she was the door burst open once more and a second later Caitlin's arms were thrown around me in a tight hug. I saw Seamus cast a worried look at her, but relax after studying her for a minute.

"Brendan, take your sister upstairs." I disentangled myself from her, gently pushing her to Brendan, still keeping a firm hold on my son.

"Seamus, you're coming with me." I ignored his protest and dragged him into the kitchen.

"I don't suppose you're going to tell me what happened?" I asked grimly, sitting him down before searching for the right medicines I need. Seamus hesitated, started to shake his head, and stopped, saying abruptly,

"I just tripped on the way home. That's all." He obviously seemed proud to have found such a good explanation so quickly. I raised an eyebrow as I studied him.

"You know, I could keep you here until you tell me the truth." His mouth started to open and I knew he was going to proclaim that it was the truth; he really _had_ fallen down, but I was having none of it.

"But I'm not going to. You know why? Because whatever's wrong, you're the only one who seems to be suffering from it. I want to help you, but I can't if you don't tell me the truth. You're the only person who can help you; it's your choice."

I crossed my arms as I looked at him; for all intents and purposes I looked sure and deliberate in my decision. But really I had no idea if I was doing the right thing. Maybe I _should_ keep him there until he told me what really had happened. This time it was a cracked rib; what if next time it was something worse? If only I had some idea what the problem was.

"For now, you're going to have to stay home with me tomorrow."

"Mom, no! That's not fair, I'm fine!" His eyes were wide and pleading, but I ignored it. We had all been planning on going for a sort of 'picnic' tomorrow afternoon by the ocean, presuming the weather was all right and no other problems occurred. After today though, I was looking forward to another day at home. At least this time I'd have some company.

I gave all three children a quick meal and sent them to bed, despite the early hour. Then I sat up until everyone else came home. I stood up with relief when I heard footsteps approach the door. Devin came in first, then Orla, both of whom were laughing. I caught sight of Evan's face as I broke into a hurried stream of words.

"Something happened today, Seamus –"

"What's wrong with Seamus?" Evan asked as he walked in. I was about to answer but the words caught in my throat when he was followed by Randal.

"What's wrong Josephine?" Evan said again, frowning as he walked over to me.

"He's hurt again, but it's worse than before." I finally said, although I didn't like talking about it front of a relative stranger. Both Devin and Orla cast worried looks at me.

"How bad is it?" A note of worry crept into Evan's voice and he took my hands in his.

"He'll be fine, but he's got a cracked rib, or at least a pretty badly bruised one."

"He didn't say what happened?" Orla questioned. I shook my head before telling them his 'falling down' story.

"You don't think it could be true?" Randal suddenly asked in a curious voice. I was annoyed at his intrusion of our conversation, but I answered him.

"No, I don't think it's true at all." I resisted the urge to glare at the older man, who shrugged, offering a friendly smile.

"Anyway, I told him he has to stay home and rest tomorrow. You guys can take the other two; I'll stay home with Seamus." They nodded and I bid them goodnight, not wanting to stay downstairs with the three of them and Randal.

I had a restless sleep that night; one filled with strange dreams. I always had strange dreams, but I rarely remembered them. This one was vivid and haunted me for days:

I was holding Seamus, who was young, probably only one or two, in my arms and we were surrounded by stars. I couldn't see where we were and didn't know what we were doing there. Suddenly Seamus was torn from my grasp; I tried to scream but couldn't and then I was falling backwards –landing in water. I struggled to swim to the surface but couldn't find it. Just before my lungs exploded with pain a hand gripped my wrist and pulled me through. I was staring into several faces; all of them strange. A man had gripped my hand though, and staring into his face I felt calm. In a perfectly normal voice I asked him if he had kept my son safe. His reply was that he'd done the best he could. A girl next to him –a strange looking girl, asked him if his best was enough...and then I woke up.

It was all just jumbled nonsense, but I couldn't get the images out of my head for days and was left with a strange feeling. It reminded of the vision-like dream I'd had when I'd given birth to Seamus, which was something I hadn't thought about in almost nine years. I never told anyone about my dream, but in a way it only served to cement my confidence that Seamus was more than he appeared.

That next morning though, he was just a little boy who had been refused a day of fun. He stared stonily as the others left. Caitlin had to be convinced to leave; she grabbed Seamus and refused to let go. At last Orla picked her up and they left, promising to be back before dark. I watched them go before turning to Seamus.

"If you go rest I can probably make something for breakfast." He shrugged, ignoring me, and walked off; slightly hunched over so as not to irritate his ribs. I sighed; so that was how it was going to be. That didn't keep me from making myself something to eat, as well as bringing him some breakfast upstairs. He pretended to have fallen asleep, so I returned downstairs to perform the numerous tasks I usually had no time for.

Hours passed; several times I went upstairs to check on Seamus, and the day went by quietly.

A little while before I expected everyone to return, there was a knock at the door. Wondering who it was –Nietzscheans never knocked, so at least I knew it was a human- I left the kitchen to open the door.

"Good afternoon there neighbor," Randal said in a cheery voice, letting out a slight laugh. A sense of unease washed over me but I ignored it.

"Hello Randal. My husband and Devin aren't here right now, but they'll be back later." I assumed he was just stopping by to see them and started to close the door but deftly stepped inside as I did.

"Well that's all right; I just thought it'd be nice to see a friendly face. Mind if I stay for a short spell?" His air of jovial friendliness was a little off-putting, but I shrugged and asked if I could get him a cup of tea.

"Sure, if it's not too much trouble, that is." I assured him that it was no trouble and went to go boil water. As I was fixing the drinks he wandered around the kitchen looking at everything.

"It's nice to get to know you a little better, Mrs. Harper, or can I call you Josephine? It's such a pretty name."

"Josephine is fine." I gave a polite smile, silently wishing the others would return quickly. As I turned to set the cups on the table he was suddenly standing in front of me, hands in his pockets.

"A pretty name for such a beautiful woman..." He said the words softly, staring down at me and my sense of unease increased.

"What was your wife's name?" I asked suddenly, still keeping my voice polite. The question seemed to take him aback, but then he chuckled.

"Oh you're a sly one...but let's not talk about the dead. The present's only what interests me, don't you feel the same?" These words too were said softly and before I knew what had happened, his hand was on my waist.

"What are you doing?" I asked in disbelief, trying to take a step back; the counter hit my back as his other hand brushed my hair from my face.

"I just want to get to know you better..." He leaned forward and I dropped the cups, pushing him away by the chest. Anger flared through me and something in his expression changed. Before either of us could do anything a voice said sharply,

"Mom...?" I looked at the doorway to see Seamus standing there, looking at the scene with wide, confused eyes.

"Seamus, go get your father," I ordered quickly. Randal was standing straight up now and he cast me a fierce glare. Seamus turned to do as I said and I rushed forward, only to be pushed to the floor.

"Come back here," He yelled loudly, sprinting from the room to where Seamus had gone. I was on my feet in an instant, terrified for my son. I followed closely behind and screamed in anger when I saw Randal lash out at Seamus, who fell to the floor.

"Do I need to teach you another lesson?" He was shouting, eyes wild. For a moment I was blinded by rage; it all made sense now...

"How _dare_ you touch him," I said the words quietly but with such a deadly calm that even Seamus looked at me in surprise. Randal had apparently not heard; he was giving a heavy blow to Seamus, who was still on the floor, and I rushed at him fiercely, hands clawing at his face.

Blood covered my nails and Randal cried out. I didn't have long to feel triumphant though –he backhanded me to the floor again and for a second I was stunned, the breath knocked out of my body.

"Mom!" I heard Seamus cry, and he ran to my side. My eyes were blurred and I tried to sit up.

"Seamus –no" The words burned my chest as I tried to gasp them out. He didn't listen, instead he did the same thing I had done, running at Randal, screaming in fury and trying hard to hit him. Randal practically laughed before shoving him away. Seamus hit the wall hard and fell to the ground. My senses were returning and I again staggered to my feet.

"How dare you..." Tears were coursing down my face; tears of rage and hate. "It's not enough that I have to worry about Nietzscheans and Magog killing my child? It's not enough that he could die of sickness or hunger or any number of injuries? I will not let him be hurt by another human." Each word was spat out –as well as a bit of blood- as I stood there, fists clenched, and shaking.

"I didn't hurt him cause I wanted to Josephine...he just needed to be taught not to disobey his olders, that's all." Randal stepped forward, hands reached out for me. With a cry I turned and ran back to the kitchen, mind racing. He was right behind me; one hand yanked at my hair while the other caught my arm. I had made it far enough though; with my free hand I grabbed the pail of water I'd just boiled, hoping it was still hot enough, and flung it into his face.

Judging by his painful cry it was still hot enough to be painful. But not enough to blind him; he twisted my arm painfully but let my hair go to get the water out of his eyes. His face red, I prepared to fight him as much as I could, but knew I couldn't hold him off forever. With despair I watched as he realized it too, and a smile crept across his face. But then I heard the door open.

"Evan!" I screamed loudly. My voice was cut off by another dizzying blow to the face. I heard Orla's scream and an instant later Evan ran into the kitchen. His face was one of pure anger but when he saw Randal gripping me and the blood on my face, he almost went crazy. Abruptly I sank to the floor as Randal was wrenched away. I heard a resounding crack as Evan began beating him. Devin yelled for him to stop, once he'd came to my side to make sure I was ok. Between the two of them they shoved Randal outside, and I heard Evan scream–no doubt restrained by Devin- that if he ever laid eyes on him again, he'd kill him.

"Seamus?" I said groggily; blood was pouring from my nose and I could taste it in my mouth. Then Orla was at my side, brushing hair away from my eyes and murmuring soothing words.

I was all right except for a few bad bruises. I was more concerned about Seamus. My son had a mild concussion and a few more bruises, but was otherwise unhurt. He was shaken more than anything, and I knew that the psychological damage had been greater than the physical. As the two of us were upstairs recovering, he told me everything that had happened. How he'd been beset by Randal one day on the way back from school. Brendan and Caitlin had raced ahead and neither had seen it. The second time, Caitlin had seen everything but of course couldn't tell anyone. Seamus had tried to confide in Brendan, but his cousin didn't believe him.

The fact that we hadn't been able to protect him was clearly a betrayal, though it was one Seamus never put into words. How can I describe the guilt one feels when a parent fails in such a way? I should have seen; I should have trusted my gut instinct. Evan felt even worse, but the two appeared to reconcile quickly. Brendan was also extremely upset, but Seamus assured him that he was forgiven.

There was a subtle change in him after that though. You couldn't tell unless you looked for it, but it was there. He never talked to strange adults ever, even avoiding his teachers. He didn't have such a problem with females; but any strange man was given an icy glare. And he seemed to distance himself from the rest of us. Oh, he played with Brendan as much as ever, as he played with his father and uncle, and he never hesitated to tell myself and his aunt that he loved us. But something was different. And for awhile it nearly broke my heart.

In the end I began to learn that perhaps it was for the best. Evan and I would not be around forever. Who knows? Maybe the more independent he felt; the easier it would be for him when we were gone. I hoped so, for it was the only comfort I could offer myself.

Author's note:

Kind of an out-of-the-way chapter, but one I'd been planning since the beginning. The next chapter will probably be a little more lighthearted, but then again, I'm making any promises. Actually, wait, I was wrong; you might want to go and get your tissue-boxes ready. I know I will. Anywho, same old same old: you guys are awesome, I'm extremely grateful for every single review, and truly happy that so many are enjoying this.

On a different note; may I suggest reading Forgotten Night (if you haven't already done so) It's posted by me, but written by a friend and is very good. Definitely a good pick-me-upper after my next few depressing episodes...

Thanks,

Luna Sealeaf


	15. Episode Fifteen

**Earth's Children**

Summary: The parents of Harper tell their tale of life and love in Post-Commonwealth Earth.

Author: Luna Sealeaf

Rating: PG-13 (Just to be safe)

Disclaimer: Again, I do not own any Andromeda characters, so don't sue me, etc. I'm not making any profit, and since my total life savings accumulates to a whopping 27 (I got allowance! Yay!) bucks, there's really no point in suing me.

Archive: It didn't occur to me before, but if anyone wants to they can. (let me know though; please) I dunno where this fic would fit in though...

"Cause we are born innocent.

Believe me Adia; we are still innocent.

It's easy, we all falter.

But does it matter"

-Ancient Earth song (Sarah McLaughlin)

Episode Fifteen

When I walked into the house and saw my son unconscious by the floor at least a thousand different thoughts went through my head. When I heard Josephine scream all those thoughts disappeared. I had run into the kitchen to find her bleeding; Randal standing over her. A man I had counted as a friend. And then those thoughts were gone too, and all that was left was fury.

If it hadn't of been for Devin I would have killed Randal. Sometimes I'm still not sure why Devin held me back. He said it was for my own good, but I didn't understand. Oh sure, the intensity of the rage frightened me a little, but I didn't care all that much. If it helped me to protect my family then I wouldn't question it. The ends justify the means, after all.

A few months after this incident, well into fall, another famine began. It almost seemed to be some kind of punishment for my misjudgment. No one was really sure why the food suddenly became so scarce. There were many different rumors. Some said that the Nietzscheans were taking our shipments of food and sending them to one of their colonies that had been attacked by magog. Others said they were simply punishing us. And still others claimed that it was due to crop failures; no more, no less.

Of course it hardly mattered why there was no food. Seeing my wife and child, my niece and nephew, my sister and best friend all growing thinner than they should have been was one of the most painful things in my life. Orla, Devin, Josephine, and I all gave up most of our meals so that the children could eat. It still wasn't enough. Seamus and Brendan had been going through growth spurts and were always hungry, no matter how much we gave up. Caitlin –well, it was hard to tell with Caitlin. She never asked for more food, but she grew paler and thinner than was normal.

That winter was one of the hardest in memory. All around us people were starving to death. It's a miracle that we didn't as well, and it's mostly thanks to my sister and my wife that any of us survived. They stretched our stores of food so that we made it to spring, when new supplies finally reached the market. They came up with thousands of ways to make one person's ration feed an entire family. The two of them were geniuses, and Devin and I made sure to tell them so.

During the famine life had slowed. Houses, including ours, became silent as people struggled to conserver their energy. No one went to listen to music on Saturdays. Even the children talked quietly in the evenings instead of their usual play. Once spring came and we were all able to eat a full meal again, life quickly resumed its normal pace. Seamus and Brendan roamed the streets during the day (except for when we insisted they go to school, but as both were practically ten, there wasn't much that the people there could teach them.) and rough-housed in the evening, until one of us told them to be quiet and go to bed.

Sometimes Caitlin went with them, other times she stayed in the house and silently watched her mother and Josephine as they worked. Although she would smile at us and laugh when Devin or I made faces at her, Caitlin never communicated with us the way she seemed to do with her brother and cousin. Her parents tried questioning Brendan and Seamus, but they claimed to be unable to explain it.

"We just know what she means, and she knows what we mean." Brendan explained so unhelpfully one night.

But the fact that she couldn't talk to us didn't make her any less precious or loved. At seven she was the most beautiful little girl I had ever seen and one of my favorite pastimes was to make jewelry out of different odds and ends for her. We adults always treated her like a delicate fragile doll, but Brendan and Seamus didn't hesitate to drag her into their games, yell at her, and just generally act like she was a perfectly normal seven year old girl. Their attitude was probably healthier than ours, but what could we do? All of us knew how much more dangerous life would be for Caitlin than for the boys. At least she had them, and us, to protect her.

I remember that spring and the early summer in a series of different moments. There were the times when I was alone with Josephine and knew that the size of my love for her almost scared me, and there were the times when the four of us were together, talking and laughing, remembering old times. And there were, of course, the children. I loved playing with them. Most of my days were spent searching for food and supplies, usually accompanied by Devin, but at times I would simply stay home and follow the kids around. I was surprised at how much I enjoyed having kids around.

When I was young I had never considered myself much of a family man; I half-doubted that I would even ever get married. Now I sometimes would think of the child Josephine had lost and wish we had more children. Once I voiced these thoughts to Josephine and she scolded me for not being grateful at our good fortune.

"Good fortune? What good fortune?" I grumbled thinking of Siobhan and Declan, and their parents.

"We have Seamus. We have Devin and Orla. We have Brendan and Caitlin. We have each other." She said the words softly as though afraid that if they were spoken too loudly fate would hear and decide that perhaps we had too much good fortune.

"You're right. You're always right." I smiled and pulled her into my arms. She grinned up at me, dark eyes twinkling.

"Of course I am, and you'd better remember it!"

I often miss those days; back when the children were still young enough to be, for the most part, dependant on us. Once Brendan and Seamus were ten they liked to go out on their own, usually with their friend Isaac along. Caitlin was sometimes invited, but usually the boys wouldn't let her come. This led us to believe whatever they were doing was dangerous.

"I want you two home before dark this time," Josephine ordered as both boys pulled on jackets. Her arms were crossed and her face plainly told them that it would be futile to argue. Devin and I exchanged looks from our seats in the main room, just right of the door.

"Mind if your old man tags along?" Devin asked casually. Usually Brendan would smile and happily invite him along. Brendan enjoyed hanging out with _his_ dad. This time, however, Brendan glanced at Seamus. Neither made any other gesture, but Brendan shook his head slowly at Devin.

"Nah, that's ok Dad. We're not going anywhere real interesting. And we'll be back real quick." Devin frowned but didn't say anything else. I sometimes couldn't help feeling that he spoiled his son too much. Brendan was a sweet boy; he rarely disobeyed his parents or got into trouble. My son on the other hand was a born troublemaker. Well, with the combined smarts of his mother and father, and my good looks, how could he not be? Actually, when I stopped to think about it, Seamus was just the way I was when I was young. Not that that was any excuse for him to disobey me.

"So where is this 'not real interesting' place?" I questioned as I stood up to face the boys. Seamus gave me one of his exasperated looks.

"Just down the street aways. We're gonna play some games with the kids from school."

I looked to Josephine but she just shrugged. There were friends of Brendan and Seamus' up the street; it was entirely possible that Seamus was telling the truth.

"Fine, I trust you." I said hoping the words might guilt Seamus into behaving. By his innocent smile and perfect words of reassurance, I doubted it had worked.

Still we had bigger problems to worry about than our way-ward son and nephew. The Nietzscheans had increased their slave raids. Sometimes there were random attacks at night, sometimes they would come and take people right off the street. Other times they came for a specific category of people. They always needed more slaves –either for themselves for so they could sell them off-planet. Nietzscheans were hardly the only people to buy slaves. Some people even said that there were humans, spacers of course, who bought cheap earth-slaves.

So my worries over my family's safety were justified. Luckily we remained, for a time at least, unaffected by these raids.

That fall we learned where Seamus and Brendan spent so much of their time. We were preparing for winter, the famine of last year fresh in our minds, when Seamus and Brendan came home late in the afternoon, excitement flushing their faces.

"Mom, Dad! Aunt Orla, I've got something to show you!" Seamus said breathlessly. Devin had gone out with Caitlin, so there was only the three of us to give worried looks.

Seamus motioned to Brendan who ran back outside the door to bring in a heavy-looking piece of metal. The boys obviously thought it was something to be proud of. Maybe it was; however, we didn't know what we were looking at.

"Seamus, please tell me that's not some sort of explosive that's going to blow up my house?" Josephine's voice was falsely sweet, as was the smile on her face. Seamus, not sure if she was joking or not, gave her a slightly confused grin.

"Of course not Mom," He said, still grinning.

"Well then you had better explain what it is and what it's doing in our home."

"I was about to!" He caught the glare on her face and instead turned to me. "Dad, you'll know what this is. It's one of those electric heaters! The kind the Nietzscheans use!"

If this had been meant to reassure us, it was definitely not working. Josephine, Orla, and I all said,

"A _what_?!" at approximately the same time.

"Did you steal it?" Orla asked, her face turning pale. Brendan and Seamus were both looking nervous and confused.

"No, no! I made it," Seamus explained. Josephine snorted and I myself couldn't hide a look of disbelief.

"From the spare parts in the junkyard. See, this one was broken, but Brendan helped me find the stuff it needs and I fixed it so it works now." Brendan nodded quickly in agreement.

"Seamus, do you know what the punishment is for taking parts from the Nietzscheans?" While I really wanted to ask him to show us that it worked, I knew he had to understand how dangerous what he claimed to have done was.

"Well, yeah, but no one caught me! And it's not like the Ubers need it anymore," he protested.

"That's not the point," Josephine said, raising her voice just a little.

"Seamus –how did you know how to fix it?" Orla's voice startled us all and we fell silent as we turned to look at her. Seamus gave a shrug in answer.

"I don't know; I just kinda...found what fit. And then it worked." I found myself thinking back to the night when I'd read him the flexi on the mechanical electronics, and how he had claimed to understand everything from it. I found myself feeling proud of him and was surprised that Josephine still looked angry. Usually I let her handle the discipline, etc. but this time I decided to have my say as well.

"Don't just stand there. Turn it on, let's see if it works." I interjected before his mother could say anything.

"Of course it works," Seamus said firmly; but he smiled as he said them and proudly turned the heater on. I stepped forward and put a hand close to it. After a few seconds I could tell that it really did work. Orla, and a slightly more reluctant Josephine, also put their hands forward. Orla and I were smiling with delight as we thought of how wonderful this would be in the middle of winter. Josephine just looked sad.

"Come here you two," I couldn't stop grinning and pulled both boys into a fierce hug. They allowed it for about a minute before pushing away.

"Wait til you show Devin and Caitlin," Orla said with a smile. As they went to find a place to put the heater, I gently took Josephine aside. Her eyes followed Seamus and were narrow with worry.

"What's wrong?" I asked her quietly. It was times like these that I became aware of how dirty I was. Strange, I know, but whenever I was trying to talk with Josephine I would suddenly realize how worn my shirt and pants were; how stiff my hair felt. _She_ always looked beautiful of course, and normally I wouldn't care about how I looked; I guess I was just afraid that someday she'd find me too disgusting to touch.

"How can you even ask that Evan? What's wrong is that our son committed a crime that the Nietzscheans would kill him for if he was caught." The words were said quietly so that the others wouldn't hear them, but that didn't keep the fierceness out either.

"Josephine what makes you think that they wouldn't just as easily kill him or us for that matter, simply for walking down the street? Seamus didn't get caught and he won't get caught." I tried to sound sure of my words. It must have worked because instead of arguing she just smiled at me and held her hand to my cheek for a moment.

And so our son became a thief. A criminal. At least that's what the Nietzscheans would call him if they ever found out what he did. Josephine would still sometimes protest when he and Brendan set out to go to the junkyard. She claimed the germs would kill him if the Nietzscheans didn't. But she still allowed them to go and I never objected. Throughout that winter they'd come home with some little odd or end that made our lives a little bit easier.

During these cold months a few things happened. Nothing that really affected the rest of the family, mostly it was just me and Devin. I had started thinking about how we might get information about the Nietzscheans. Kind of a spy network, if you will. Just so we could be forewarned before a slave raid, or get any other important information. One day when Devin and I were at the market I started talking to him about it. A couple of our acquaintances started listening as I told them my idea. It was pretty simple and nothing to brag about. I just said that anyone who'd be willing to collect information anyway they knew how should be given extra food, clothing, or whatever they needed.

Those of us with families were probably not going to be active 'spies' but there were plenty of single men and women who would gladly fight against the Nietzscheans anyway they could. Slowly our little group began to grow until we had to hold meetings in one of the empty rooms of the tunnels. It was a silent rule that none of us get too close if it could be avoided. If a spy were caught they'd be killed instantly. Making friends was not the point; surviving as long as we could by banding together was. It was Devin who first started referring to himself as 'Lahey'. I became known simply as 'Harper' after that. It was a good idea of his; there was something about using a first name that became too personal. And titles like 'Miss' or 'Mr.' were a mouthful.

I remember one night, a few months after this had gotten started, someone knocked at the door. Orla and Josephine already knew about our little 'organization' and had agreed that it was a good idea. Still, they were worried about repercussions this might have on our family and so when we heard the knock all of us froze. Except Seamus. He got up from his seat on the floor and opened the door a crack before any of us could stop him.

"Who is it?" he asked quickly.

"Is Harper there? I have news for him." Seamus turned to look at me with confusion.

"It's for me son," I said quickly, jumping to my feet and going over to the door.

After the man had left I returned to my seat. Seamus was staring at me quizzically and finally asked,

"Why did he call you Harper?"

"Because it's my name."

"It's your last name," He pointed out.

"Well I'd rather have strangers call me by my last name than my first. You'll understand someday." I assured him since he still looked doubtful.

"Ok kids, time for bed." Orla announced and Seamus went upstairs with his cousins for the night.

In the end my brilliant idea did more harm than good. We'll never know exactly what went wrong; my guess is that a Nietzschean found out what we were up to and instead of killing us...

It all started one night after the children were put to sleep. It was early spring; a week or so before Brendan's birthday, and just a few days after Caitlin's. There was a meeting in the tunnels and Josephine and Orla had decided to come with us. Usually they stayed home, but occasionally they came along.

The meeting started off normally enough. The room was practically full; it was a square shaped room with just one main entrance and a few smaller tunnels connecting to other rooms. When someone spoke everyone else had to be absolutely silent or else the noises would echo off the walls and nothing could be heard. One of our spies was standing up and giving a report about what they had heard. The four of us were sitting up front, about in the center of the room in front of the entrance. As the speaker started to sit down a strange noise suddenly could be heard faintly.

Everyone fell silent as the noises grew louder. I looked at the others uneasily; something just felt wrong. People who had been sitting started to stand. The four of us were among them. Just as we were about to ask if we should leave, shots were fired. People started screaming and running, but there was no room to go anywhere.

The four of us were being pushed along in the mass of bodies and we found ourselves further from the entrance, which turned out to be a good thing as Nietzscheans filled the doorway. I gripped Josephine's hand tightly and Devin did the same to Orla.

"The smaller tunnels," I whispered, barely doing more than moving my mouth. The three of them nodded however, and as quickly as we could we started to the other side of the room. That's when the chaos broke out again. Dozens of Nietzschean guards spilled into the room but we didn't hear a barrage of gunshots. Instead the Nietzscheans were dragging people out of the room; sometimes knocking them out, others they simply pulled away. More came to take their place and suddenly I realized what they were doing.

They were taking us alive; either so they could publicly execute us later or, more likely, use us as slaves. Perhaps both. The point was that we had to leave as quickly as possible. It was not easy; people were swarming all around us. I was in front pushing through people, Josephine was behind me, Orla behind her, and Devin brought up the rear. All of us were linked by our hands so we wouldn't get separated in the crowds.

Just as I had reached the smaller tunnel entrance I heard Orla scream, followed by Josephine's shout of,

"Devin!"

I spun around to see, to my horror, Devin wrestling against a huge Nietzschean. He was holding him off pretty good, but I decided to go and help him. Almost as if he had read my thoughts Devin yelled loudly,

"Evan go! Get them out of here!" He was able to turn slightly and his eyes met mine. It nearly killed me to run, but he was right. If I tried to help him all of us would get caught. So I held Josephine's hand tighter, helped to pull Orla away, and practically shoved them both through the tunnel.

"Evan no, we have to help him!" Josephine screamed, but I ignored her. Every fiber in my being screamed that I was a coward; how could I leave my brother –for that's what he was- and my best friend behind like that? My only consolation was a line of names:

Josephine. Orla. Brendan. Seamus. Caitlin.

I repeated them over and over in my mind like a mantra, making sure neither my sister nor my wife stopped crawling through the tunnel. We were lucky that it led directly to the surface because I don't think any of us could have found our way out of the maze of tunnels that night. When we reached the surface Orla was pale and shaking, clutching her hands to her face. Josephine turned her fury on me, beating against my chest with her fists and demanding to know why I had left her brother behind.

"I was supposed to protect him!" She yelled. She repeated the words again, only softer, and soon collapsed against me, sobbing. Josephine had raised Devin; he was practically more like a son than a younger brother. I could only imagine what she was going through. And Orla...how could I even offer her comfort? If it had been Josephine, or even Orla herself, no force in the world could have stopped me from going to try and save her.

We stood there for a few minutes but I knew we had to get back to the house. The streets were not safe at the moment. I pulled the two of them along and tried to get my bearings of where we were. The walk home could have taken years for all that I knew. But somehow we did make it back to the house and we stumbled inside; glad for the light and the warmth it offered. I didn't know what to do...what should I do? For a few moments I paced along the floor but finally I sat down.

Josephine sat next to me and took my hands, her head bowed. Orla seemed better off than I expected her to be. When she offered me a cup of tea I looked at her in surprise.

"Would you rather have some whiskey?" She said quietly with a painful sort of smile. I took the tea and set it down so I could take her hands in my own.

"How are you so strong?" I wondered in amazement, looking at her hands as though they might hold the answer to my question. Again she gave me a painful smile, but her eyes were dry.

"I just know he's not dead. He won't die, and someday he'll come back to us. It may take years..." Her voice broke and she was silent. "But he'll come back. I know it. Just like Josephine knows things."

At the mention of her name Josephine raised her head slightly from my shoulder.

"Remember how you knew Seamus was going to live, even though he was so small?" Orla asked gently. Josephine stared at her with red eyes before nodding slowly.

"That's how I feel. Nothing can keep him from us. Not a million Nietzscheans or Magog or –or..." I stood up and took her in my arms, but she didn't cry. Josephine had stopped sobbing but she still looked stunned. I guess she was feeling about the way I had felt when I had found Liam dead. My throat choked up when I recalled that it had been Devin who had carried my brother's body away from the village so we could give him the respect he deserved.

The next morning we were faced with the difficult task of explaining Devin's disappearance to the children. Seamus and Brendan stared at us with stony faces. The worst part was that we couldn't even tell them if their father and uncle was alive or dead, because we didn't know. Orla of course, insisted that he was alive and would come home someday. None of us knew how to convey the news to Caitlin. I asked Seamus and Brendan if they could try explaining to her. I think somehow she finally understood something was wrong, even though the boys were too upset to explain it.

Devin being gone left a hole in our lives. Every morning I was reminded of his absence. Sometimes when I was feeling depressed I'd wonder...

In ten years, would there be any of us left?

Author's Note:

Sorry this took so long! I sort of had writer's block for awhile, and then the computer had to be shut down for a couple of days because of the non-stop thunderstorms. Also, if the lyrics in the beginning are incorrect, forgive me. I couldn't find the words so I had to listen to the song over and over trying to be sure those were the right lyrics. Ok, well I'll have the next chapter as soon as I can write it. Thanks for all the reviews of the last chapter!

-Luna Sealeaf


	16. Episode Sixteen

Hey, I'm sorry this took so long to get written and posted. I blame school mostly. First it was anxiety over it starting, and then when it started I became too busy to do much other than sleep. Anyway, my thoughts were constantly on the next episode and now that I have a new computer in my own room, I should be able to get episodes up even quicker! Yay! (Applause)

Also, I had a question: I have tons of great songs and ideas for Andromeda Music videos. But I can't make them myself, I don't have the right equipment, so if I wanted to post my suggestions to anyone who can make one, where would I put the post? (Of course you could always email or im me if you wanted :) )

Ok, enough of that, down to business!

**Earth's Children**

Morning smiles

like the face of a newborn child

Innocent; unknowing...

Promises of a long lost friend

It speaks to me of comfort

But I fear

I have nothing to give

And I have so much to lose

Here in this lonely place

Tangled up in our embrace

There's nothing I'd like better than to fall

But I fear

I have nothing to give

-Ancient Earth lyrics (Sarah McLachlan)

Episode Sixteen

After all the people I had lost in my life the sudden loss of my brother wounded me more than I could have imagined.

At what point does a person become numb to the pain of losing a loved one? What was the body count that I would have to reach before I would no longer suffer from such excrutiating agony? When would it stop and let me live the rest of my life in peace?

From before I could remember, Devin had been a constant in my life. I could only just recall asking Mom why her stomach was growing. Her words, telling me to watch and protect my brother, echoed through my mind always, a steady rhythm behind my other thoughts. And I had failed. The blame was all mine. I should never have let him join Evan in their rebellious meetings.

Logic didn't comfort me. I knew that in reality the meetings and system my husband had come up with had done more good than harm. My mind also knew that Devin was a grown man; capable of making his own decisions. My heart refused to accept such cold knowledge. For once even Evan could do little to comfort me. I finally understood how he had felt when Liam had been killed.

Well, not exactly, I suppose. After all, Devin could still be alive. Orla certainly seemed to think he was. I wanted to believe her; I wanted so badly to believe that she was right and that we would see each other again. It was possible, wasn't it? Perhaps not probable...but when had anything that happened in our lives been 'probable'? I often thought back and wondered how things would have been different if Orla been correct and not, alas, I.

At least I could be sure about one thing: Seamus, my son, would live. Of that I was absolutely certain, as much as I had always been. I have never really believed in the supernatural, but I couldn't help but think the dreams I sometimes had were premonitions of the future. The dreams had become more frequent and more vivid as he grew older, but I couldn't always recall them. They were always different too. Some nights I woke up at peace with my self and the world, other times I awoke crying and trembling in fear. From what I could remember of the dreams, there were only a few similarities. The faces I saw were almost always the same. I pondered telling Evan about them, but after Devin's disappearence I decided not to. I'm not sure why... but it was nice to have something all to myself. Some bit of knowledge that I could comfort myself with when no one else was able to.

For a time we, the people in the Human Ghetto, were left in peace. Evan -or "Harper" as people on the streets came to know him as- would sometimes disappear for a few days when word came of Nietzscheans searching for him. But things quieted down and we were left with our grief. It was in times such as those dark days that I would realize how important my family was to me. It was in them that I found my strength.

Orla was stronger than I could ever imagine. Buoyed by her belief that Devin was not gone from our lives forever, she was able to go about our daily business with her usual positive mood. When my sadness overtook me she would make me rest and take care of me; this woman who's health was now so frail. Her skin might be an unhealthy white; she might be thinner than Brendan, but her eyes sparkled with life as much as they always had. How she could continue so without Devin by her side was beyond me. Those two had been in love from the moment they had set eyes upon each other. Her goodness helped me to overcome my doubts and evantually join the living again.

The boys, Seamus and my nephew Brendan, were constantly striving to make us laugh. When my thoughts were suddenly filled with my brother I would watch the two of them playing and working together and it would comfort me. Thanks to the two of them and their antics I was reminded of the happy memories I shared with my family, rather than just the sad ones.

Caitlin was more sensitive than the boys. Growing into such a beautiful young girl, despite her lack of words, sometimes Caitlin would just sit with me. Her silence was often a greater comfort than any other's persons' words. Once she disappeared with her brother and cousin for nearly an entire day. When the three of them returned she handed me a bouquet of wildflowers. The gesture had been so sweet that tears had filled my eyes, though I refused to cry. Then Caitlin hugged me fiercely and ran away, blonde hair flying behind her back. I had stood there, alone in the kitchen, staring at the flowers as I remembered when Devin would go and pick me flowers after the two of us had fought.

But I think the greatest help was indeed Evan. He always knew what I was thinking. Despite the amount of years that had passed since I had first kicked him on that dark night (it seemed a lifetime ago) he still looked just like the handsome boy who had so infuriated me. I don't if what people say about soulmates is true or not; but Evan was as close to one as I think I could get. He really did complete me. I could no more live without him than I could live without oxygen.

As the days went by, one after another in a slow march of grey skies and unclean winds, and seasons passed as they had done for eternity, I found myself smiling again. It didn't seem possible; how could I be happy when our lives were so filled with sadness? But I was, and I was not the only one. Even Caitlin recovered her happy disposition, a healing that comes so much easier to children than to adults, it sometimes seems. 'Adult'...when had I started calling myself that? For that matter, when had I become an adult?

Three years after my brother's capture I was in my early thirties, give or take a year, I suppose, since I had never been completely sure of my age since my parents' death. Despite my advanced years I didn't feel old. I didn't even feel mature. I had always associated wisdom and strength with age, but now that I had reached such an age, I felt no different. Everything was just as confusing, just as painfully strange and new, as everything had been twenty years ago. As my son grew older, I often felt younger, rather than otherwise. Though between him and his father, one would think it would be the opposite.

At thirteen, both Seamus and his cousin Brendan were strikingly handsome; both were fairly short, Brendan about an inch taller than Seamus, but both had beautiful eyes. Seamus with his clear brilliant blue ones and Brendan with the warm brown of his father. The only thing the two had in common otherwise was their spiky blonde -almost more of a pale white color than actually gold, like that of Evan and Orla- and of course, their cocky attitudes. When I was thirteen, and I'm sure it was the same for Evan, I was struggling merely to survive to be fourteen, that I had no time for friends. Let alone boyfriends. Apparently life in the city was different, because Seamus began to claim that he'd fallen in love.

I remember well the first night that he came home and after a silent dinner of picking at his food and constantly sighing, while casting significant looks to Brendan, who would look back sympathetically, Seamus at last spoke up when only Evan and I remained in the kitchen.

"How old were you when you got married?" He blurted out, blushing a little and not meeting our gaze. Evan was helping me wash dishes -no easy task in such a dampy and small room- and we exchanged puzzled looks at his question. Finally, eyes questioning, Evan shrugged and answered our son's question.

"I guess I was about nineteen or so. Your mother was...?" Now it was his turn to look at me and wait for an answer. Under both of their stares, I didn't really care to remember how old I was. Of course, if someone had told me what was going to happen three years later I might have changed my thinking...

"Around twenty I suppose," I finally muttered, concentrating on the dish in my hands and making sure to give it an extra vigorous scrub. When Seamus said nothing else, merely standing in the doorway and looking uncomfortable, I nudged Evan in the shoulder. For a moment he stared at me in incomprehension until I gestured my head to the boy.

"Why do you ask?" He quickly turned and directed towards Seamus.

"I just wanted to know....see, there's this girl...her name's Julia, and, and we're in love."

He said these last words so fast that I almost thought I hadn't heard right. There was complete silence as Seamus stood up straight, looking slightly defiant, and I tried to think of what to do. Should Evan and I somehow turn this into a life lesson? Should we encourage it or convince him that he was too young? Then again, in our lives, the phrase 'too young' had almost lost all point of use. I don't think Evan was having such difficult thoughts as I was. He laughed.

"Just like his Dad eh?" Grinning, Evan walked over and lightly cuffed Seamus' head, who grinned right back at him, apparently relieved from having such positive feedback.

"Making the ladies swoon at first sight, breaking hearts..." Evan shook his head in mock sadness, giving a theatrical sigh. "Ah, those were the days..." The two 'men' laughed and I found myself once more slightly irritated at them both.

"Ahem." I cleared my throat and two pairs of blue eyes focused on me. Crossing my arms and tossing my hair, something that was rather difficult to do, considering that it only reached my chin, I said in a neutral voice,

"And who exactly did what other girls did you sweep off their feet? Strangely enough, I was under the impression that you had married your first and -correct me if I'm wrong- only love. Me." I walked towards them as I spoke, saying the words as though they were simply observations. Seamusg giggled nervously, looking from one of us to the other, but he was too used to our petty squabbles to be too worried. Evan just changed expressions instantly, a trait I lacked but at which he excelled, and carefully put his arms around me.

"I was only joking, you know that. You're the only woman I've ever loved or ever wanted to love." I wish I could say that I wasn't so easily placated, but since I knew he was only joking before, I gave him a quick kiss on the cheek and turned back to our current problem.

"And what makes you think that this girl, Julia, feels the same way you claim to feel?" I asked, trying to sound serious and not make fun of his emotions. At my words though Seamus looked uneasy again. He gave a brief shug; lifting one shoulder and lowering it. I looked to Evan to see what he made of this gesture.

"Well...I guess she probably doesn't know exactly how much I like her. Dad," As if suddenly thinking of something, Seamus looked up at his father -a short distance now that Seamus had gone through a growth spurt- and continued hestitantly.

"How did you make Mom fall in love with you?" His look was once more serious but I could not hold in a laugh at his words. Evan opened his mouth to answer but I cut in before he could say anything.

"Your father? Make me fall in love with him? That's not exactly how it happened." Evan frowned slightly while I grinned to myself and Seamus looked confused.

"But, I mean, what did you do and stuff?"

"Oh this is too perfect," I muttered, threw my hands in the air, and returned to my dish cleaning. Behind me, Evan continued with his solemn conversation, one hand resting on Seamus' shoulder lightly. They looked for all the world as though they were discussing the meaning of life and wisdom was passing from Father to Son.

"Now at first your mother didn't think much of me at all."

"That's putting it rather lightly, don't you think?" I said over my shoulder. Seamus glanced at me curiously but Evan ignored my words.

"Anyway, I didn't let that stop me. I followed her around, showed off my skills and my better side. You know, convinced her that I was worth spending her time with. In the old days, they used to call it 'courting' or sometimes 'dating'. We got to know each other better and found that we had a lot in common."

At this I had no choice but to turn around incredulously, fists on my hips though I ignored the water now staining my grungy dress.

"That's not what it was like at all?" Evan looked at me in surprise while Seamus asked eagerly,

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, your father did nothing but pester and annoy me. Not to mention he could hardly give a decent compliment to save his life."

Evan blushed slightly and mumbled something I didn't hear but Seamus found my words funny.

"So tell me exactly what you did," Seamus implored his father.

"Wouldn't you rather have my advice?" I asked, a little surprised. He grinned at me and shook his head.

"Nah, after all, Dad's way worked, didn't it?" My mouth must have dropped open as Evan let out a loud laugh. I tried to say something.

"But it was embarrassing! I practically hated him when we first met," I tried to insist.

"But you guys still got married and all, so it must have worked."

Evan was holding his sides now, laughing so hard. I decided that I'd had enough of washing dishes. Still unable to think of a single thing to say to that, and not likeing this feeling of speechlessness one bit, I stormed out of the kitchen to go talk to 'sensible' people, such as Orla and Caitlin.

I suppose Evan's advice must have worked since a few weeks later Seamus brought Julia over for dinner. She was apparently a good friend of his and Brendan's and the three got on wonderfully. I wasn't so sure that I liked the girl; she seemed a little arrogant and spoiled to me, but then, she was only a child. I decided to let it go and let things work themselves out. I had hoped that Seamus would evantually see Julia the way I did, but he truly seemed taken by her. There young love only lasted for a few months though; towards the beginning of winter Seamus became melancholy and depressed. Apparently Julia had dumped him and he was heartbroken. Good riddance, was all I had to say. Evan took it a little more seriously, explaining that it was Seamus' first love, and that those were always the hardest.

"Not all first loves are the same." I reminded him. They couldn't have really been in love. Even if they had been older, I firmly believed that if you truly loved someone, you stayed with them for as long as you could.

"They're just kids whose hormones are controlling their minds," I said loftily. Looking back, I wish I hadn't had such a cavalier attitude. Instead of finding my words comforting, it annoyed Seamus that I didn't understand, and he often turned to his father when he wished to confide something. I was hurt for a little while, but Seamus' mood only lasted for the one season. Brendan was soon sick of his dark moods and by spring the two boys were back to prowling the streets and playing with their friend Isaac. Seamus and I grew close again, mainly due to his numerous mechanical projects. Other than himself, I was the person with the best understanding of such things and he loved to talk about what he was working on and what he planned to make. Sometimes I would feel a little guilty when the two of us would have these conversations, for Evan was often left out. He didn't know what we were talking about most of the time and his lack of knowledge would make him frustrated. There didn't seem to be much common ground among the three of us, except for when we were together as one big family with Orla, Brendan, and Caitlin.

In fact, Caitlin was about the only one who could ever calm Seamus down. When he got in a bad mood, which was luckily a rare occurence, Seamus would act surly and get mad at anyone who reprimanded him. Only Caitlin took no nonsense from her older cousin. I remember one episode of such a case: It was that same spring after Seamus' failed love and all of us were outside enjoying the sunshine. Caitlin was drawing pictures in the dirt with her hands, and the rest of us were doing various things. Seamus and Brendan had returned from the junkyard mid-afternoon, apparently having got into a fight, over what we did not know. Brendan stormed into the house and slammed the door while Seamus stomped around our little group. The four of us just ignored him, though Orla offered an inviting smile. For a few minutes Seamus did nothing while we continued our business; then, for no apparent reason that I am aware of, he walked over to Caitlin and scuffed her pictures with his foot. Before the three of us could scold him Caitlin had leapt to her feet and in one swift motion slapped her cousin across the face.

I swear the sound of it practically echoed in the small area.

"Caitlin..." Orla gasped, trying to reprimand her. I layed a hand on her arm to still her words, wanting to see how the two children handled things. Caitlin was glaring at Seamus, who appeared stunned. There was a red mark on his cheek and his mouth formed an O. The two stared at each other, unblinking, for I don't know how long. I wondered what Caitlin would say, if she could speak. But they did not seem to need words to communicate. After a few minutes of this, Seamus hung his head and gave a small,

"I'm sorry Caity" using his and Brendan's pet name for her. Caitlin ignored him, turned sharply, and stalked into the house. It was just one of many times where Caitlin showed that she was just as strong as her two cousins. Perhaps this seems unimportant to others but the knowledge made me easier about the future. I knew that no matter what might happen to her mother, or myself and Evan, Caitlin would be able to take care of herself.

And so our lives went; day after day, night after night. There were raids from the Nietzscheans, there were one or two small Magog attacks that were terrifying at the time but not so bad in retrospect, there were murders and mugging among the humans themselves; and there were the impartial killers; plagues, famine...but nothing so bad in particular that it stood out in our minds. All of these things and more were just the backdrop of our every day lives.

And, as Orla would always say, there were good things too. There were children; there was the dawn and the setting of the sun; nights of full moons and starry skies, laughter, unusual acts of kindness, and so on. She would always make sure to point these things out to her children, and Seamus if he was around. I sometimes wondered why, but never put my question into words. One night after going over all the known constellations and telling the three children about how beautiful the stars were in space, she answered my question on her own.

"I wish I could see the stars from space someday. And the earth, and the moon." Brendan said quietly. We were behind the house; some might have called it our backyard since there was a small patch of undead grass that was boxed in with walls on all sides, so it gave a feeling of complete privacy. Evan had gone to sleep with a headache, but Orla and I were sitting outside on the grass with the children, who were stretched out side by side on the ground.

"Yeah, that'd be great..." Seamus said. His voice picked up a little bit as he continued with a little more excitement, "If I ever lived in space, I wouldn't ever leave it. I'd go visit drifts, and other planets maybe, but mostly I'd just stay in my huge spaceship and just fly around..." Brendan nodded in agreement.

"Oh I don't know, that seems like a bit of a meaningless life," Orla countered gently.

"So? What's wrong with a meaningless life? What's the difference between a meaningful one and one that's not?" Seamus rolled over onto his stomach to face his aunt inquiringly, chind resting on his fists as he gazed up at her. Brendan followed suit curiously; only Caitlin continued to lay still on the grass.

"Wouldn't you rather do something important, something that changed the world? Something that helped people? I'm sure space is a nice place, but you shouldn't forget about all the beautiful things here on Earth. A meaningful life would be working to preserve those beautiful things..." her voice trailed off and she stood up. Both boys were looking at her with odd expressions. As though they were caught between wanting to agree with Orla because of how much they loved her, but not really thinking her words made sense.

"Well, I'm off to bed. Goodnight everyone, sleep well." She stood up and smiled cheerfully at them and we returned her pleasantry. I wasn't quite ready to sleep, but I stood up anyway.

"Your aunt is right you know; a meaningful life is much more fulfilling than you'd think," I didn't want to sound like I was lecturing, and as I spoke both Seamus and Caitlin slowly got to their feet.

"Maybe...but Aunt Orla's too nice. I don't think I could ever be as good a person as she is." Seamus said ruefully. I laughed and ruffled his hair, though he tried to duck away. So instead I caught him up in a quick hug and kissed his forehead before letting him go. He pretended to be disgusted but grinned as he went inside. I did the same to Caitlin, who accepted both hug and kiss passively, gave me a quick smile, and followed Seamus. I then turned to Brendan, who was still laying on the ground.

"Hey kiddo, aren't you tired yet?"

"Not really..." There was something in his voice that made me think something was bothering him, so I walked over and sat down next to him. Neither of us said anything for a few minutes, then...

"Aunt Josephine can I tell you something?" His words were slow and hesitant, and he sat up abruptly as he said them. I schooled my face into a calm expression as I looked over my nephew, silently dreading what his words might be.

"Of course Brendan, you can always talk to me." I finally answered.

"Will you promise not to tell Mom?" These words caught me by surprise; usually Brendan was quite close to Orla, especially after his father had been taken.

"Sure," I wanted to add something to my promise, some sort of safeguard so that if what he told me was too big I could tell her without feeling guilty. But the words wouldn't come out. So I waited silently while Brendan collected his thoughts.

"Seamus and I did something bad the other day," He finally said in a small voice, turning his gaze to the ground and picking at the grass.

"How bad?" I sat as though frozen, trying not to sound mad or worried; merely curious.

"I'm not sure. We only did it to save ourselves but..." Again he hesitated and I reached over to lay a hand on his, offering comfort.

"You can tell me. I promise I won't be mad at you," I said quietly, gazing at him intensely. At last he looked up and met my eyes.

"We killed somebody." I felt as though I'd been kicked. I struggled to continue breathing normally, feeling cold as ice.

"Who was it? Why?" I stopped myself before I started scaring him.

"I don't know who it was, some guy. We were coming home from the junkyard and we were eating the lunch you'd given us. Suddenly he just came out of nowhere. We didn't even know he was there until he knocked Seamus down. He had a knife and I was afraid he'd hurt us so I attacked him, then Seamus stood up and he helped me..." Brendan shivered fiercely and looked away. I no longer felt scared though; I knew Brendan wouldn't lie, and so all that was left was a great deal of sadness. As I reached over to lay an arm around him, pulling him to my side, it occurred to me why it was that I felt so bereft.

Both my son and my nephew, at just thirteen years old, had lost all semblance of innocence they might have had.

Well and so, why should I feel bad? Hadn't I been three years younger than they when my own innocence had been lost? While I might have liked to protect them from all unpleasantness in the world, to do so would probably do them more harm than good.

"Why didn't you want to tell your mother?" I asked softly.

"I didn't want her to know that I was...that I was a murderer." His voice came out hoarsely and he bit his lip, presumably to keep from crying. Brendan rarely cried so that spoke of how great his distress was.

"Your Mom would never think that of you; just as I'd don't think that of you. Orla has killed to protect herself and her family. Don't be ashamed of it." He leaned into my arms and I held him for much of the night, until he fell asleep. I let him sleep for a little while because I wanted to be alone with my thoughts. So many things were racing through my mind. I had always taught the two of them that it was safer and better to run away than to fight back. Brendan had usually listened to me politely but then point out that neither his father nor his uncle ran away from fights. I would sharply reply that neither his father nor his uncle were thirteen years old. I had at least thought that Seamus, my son, had listened to me and would be safer for it. I suppose I'd been wrong.

It wasn't that I wanted Seamus to be a coward or weak. I just wanted him to survive. And brave as his father and Devin may have looked to the boys, I knew that there had been many times when Evan's temper or Devin's pride could easily have gotten them killed. Perhaps I was trying to control them too hard. Maybe I'll I could do was protect them as much as possible and hope. Hope that fate had a better future for them than the ones it gave to their family.

With a sigh I gently shook Brendan awake. He was too heavy, despite his skinny frame, for me to carry him upstairs. He nodded groggily as I told him to go to bed. I watched him walk inside as I stood up. Before I followed him I paused; looking up in the sky to wonder if it held the answers to the questions I so desperately wanted to ask. But all that I saw was a vast emptiness, broken only by a few pale and fading lights.

Author's Note:

Please don't hate me! I'm so incredibly sorry that this took so long! But seriously, it really was just one thing after another. And also, please forgive my spelling/grammar errors. I have a computer in my room now, but at the moment it only has wordpad on it, so I had to make do with practically no cool writing features. For the same reason, please forgive me if it's really short. It doesn't have a page count, so I had to try and estimate. And since I had writer's block throughout this whole episode, it was hard for me to just sit down and write page after page. Despite all this, I hope you enjoyed this. I can't promise when the next episode will be, but I promise to at least get started on it really soon. Thanks for waiting,

Luna Sealeaf


	17. Episode Seventeen

Thanks everyone, as always, you guys are wonderful. I must say Labedomenypotu() that your reviews are always very entertaining, and they're good at reminding me of what I need to add in the next chapter. And of course thanks to Kitty and Psyche and LittleRedHead and Callie-Cat...it's your encouragement that keeps me writing this! (And my ego, of course ;) )

**Earth's Children**

It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness, it was the epoch of belief, it was the epoch of incredulity, it was the season of Light, it was the season of Darkness, it was the spring of hope, it was the winter of despair, we had everything before us, we had nothing before us, we were all going direct to Heaven, we were all going direct the other way...

-Ancient Earth literature (Charles Dickens)

Episode Seventeen

It was a bright sunny day, about midsummer or so, and we were celebrating my son's fourteenth birthday. On an occassion of such happiness, it was hard to not also feel sad. There were so many who were not there with us that should have been. If I begin listing names, I'd probably never finish, so let me continue. With our small, meager but heart-felt gifts, the five of us were gathered behind our home waiting...for Seamus.

"I don't understand what's taking him so long," Josephine said again, her voice filled with impatience. She glanced at Brendan, a slight frown upon his face.

"Don't look at me! Usually when I don't go with him, Shay only stays at the dump for a few minutes." Automatically our glances turned towards Caitlin, who was sitting on the ground, legs outstretched, hands running through the pale green blades, completely unaware -or at least, ignoring,- our looks. Josephine watched her for a moment before turning back to Brendan in order to question him further about our wayward son. I continued watching my niece and so, I noticed, did Orla. I felt for my sister to a point of painess; Orla loved all people, all children, fiercely, but most particularly her own children (as well as Seamus) and specifically her daughter. I, strangely enough, did not feel all that bad for Caitlin. She was special; there was something different about her. Sometimes when I looked into her eyes, when she didn't quickly look away that is, I felt like I was staring into the deepest of oceans -or into some miniature galaxy hidden away behind her wide dark eyes.

Then Orla noticed me staring and gave a small smile. I grinned back in an effort to hide my thoughts. I was more worried about my sister than her daughter; once we had been near-mirror images. Obviously as we had grown older that had changed; but now the contrast was startling. My skin was at least three shades darker than her sickly pale one; no longer could the flush of youth and beauty -and health- be seen on her fair face. Her very hair had turned a washed-out blonde, and her smile no longer filled one with joy, though it might surprise someone to see the kindness in it.

"Shay, there you are! It's about time!" Clutching the gift I had for him behind my back I turned at the sound of Orla's voice. Seamus scowled, his hands hanging loosely in the pockets of his torn pants. With a too-big vest of a stiff material, and an old shirt of mine with the sleeves rolled up he was a bit gruff looking -but I had never felt prouder of him. Despite his attitude problem that surfaced from time to time, he was a smart kid, and a decent boy.

"I told you to quit calling me 'Shay'! It sounds like a baby's name..." He grumbled. Orla looked slightly hurt at his tone; the others had started calling him that years ago and he'd only recently begun to insist on them using his full first name.

"Happy birthday cuzo!" Brendan grinned and punched him playfully on the shoulder. Seamus pretended to swing a punch at him but his cousin ducked easily.

"Enough you two, let's give him his presents before it gets dark."

"Yeah Brendan, you're keeping me from getting my gifts," Seamus teased. With a few laughs they settled down and one by one we handed him some trinket or other that he exclaimed at and thanked us for grandly. Only Caitlin, sitting a little apart from the rest of us, seemed unaware of the goings-on. I went last and cleared my throat before talking.

"I wish I could say that this has a long family history, but the one I used to have got left back in Ireland..." I said gruffly as I held out the tin whistle. Seamus took it curiously from my hands and examined it.

"Neat...what is it?"

"It's a tin whistle; a musical instrument. My father taught me to play and Liam found me that one back when we lived in Dunwich." Behind me Josephine laid a hand on my arm and made a soft noise as she no doubt recalled the event Liam had given it to me for.

"Wow, thanks Dad. You're gonna teach me how to play it, right?" Not one for sentimental words he looked back up at me and his smile was more than enough thanks nonetheless.

"Of course I'm gonna teach you! Whether you want to learn or not! Someone needs to make music around here."

Ever since the Nietzscheans had raided the tunnels a year ago the Saturday music nights had pretty much ceased as most people were afraid to dwell underground for too long. Every few weeks Josephine and I would go; once in awhile Seamus or Brendan would come along too.

So I spent the rest of the day teaching him how to play some simple songs. So the others wouldn't get bored, I took it myself and played for a bit, giving the women a chance to dance a bit. They dragged the boys and tried to get Caitlin to at least spin with them. She put up with this for a few minutes before pulling away; finally sauntering over to where I stood and staring at the instrument with immense scrutiny. As evening fell I again went back to showing Seamus the different notes. It's fairly easy to play the tin whistle; it's memorizing the songs that's a bit trickier.

Just as the sun was saying it's last goodbye, and we were gathering our things to move them inside, Josephine's sharp voice cut through the air; abruptly changing the playful mood to one of somber silence.

"Seamus -what is that?" She pointed to a spot on his upper arm. Flushing, Seamus quickly pulled his sleeve down that had gotten pushed up during his wrestling with Brendan. But Josephine wouldn't relent. She took hold of his arm and pulled the sleeve back up. On his upper right arm was a small black and white circle. It looked like a tattoo. I placed a comforting hand on Josephine's shoulder but she ignored it as Orla and Brendan looked over our shoulders at the design.

"It's just a tattoo Mom, you don't need to freak out over it." Seamus matched his mother's tone and turned to give her a glare. My wife gave a tight laugh that held no amusement.

"Oh I disagree Seamus; I think this is something I should freak out over. Did you even listen to me when I told you _why_ you couldn't get any body piercings or other, other-" She gestured to the tattoo, apparently at a loss for words. Seamus was now looking both hurt and angry.

"It's a yin-yang Mom! It's supposed to represent harmony and balance and all that other peace-crap you're always talking about! I thought you might even like it, but I should have known you wouldn't even give me half a chance to explain!" My hand on Josephine's shoulder tightened slightly.

"You and the others go inside Rose, I'll handle this."

"Don't you dare go easy on him!" She whispered to me furiously, though complying to my request. I nodded vaguely and turned back to my son. Neither of us said anything as the rest of the family went back inside.

"You're not going to yell at me?" Seamus asked suspiciously. I shrugged slowly sinking to take a seat on the cool ground.

"Not much point is there? I mean, you've already gone and gotten the thing done."

"I don't see why she's so against it anyway," Seamus muttered, scuffing his foot against the grass.

"She's so against it because it's dangerous Seamus! And not the normal everyday dangerous, it's an unnecessary risk. And you know what your mother says about those." I said quietly.

"Why did you suddenly feel like you had to get one anyway?" I asked curiously.

"I dunno... it just seemed neat I guess." Not much of an answer but I decided not to press him for a better one.

"Did you at least get it done by someone reliable? They used a clean needle and all that?" Seamus gave me a look of pure scorn.

"Of course I did Dad, I'm not stupid."

"Let's not get started on that subject; not on your birthday anyway," I replied with raised answers. With a sigh I cast another glance at the design on his arm.

"At least it's pretty small. Let's just hope it doesn't get infected. I'll talk to your mother," I added softly as I stood up and headed back inside, Seamus following behind me.

"Thanks Dad," His warm smile was worth the strength it took for me to not blow up at him myself. After all, Josephine had been right; such things were dangerous and often resulted in death. It was beyond me why anyone would want to do something so stupid. Then again he was my son. When had I grown into such a responsible adult? With a sad smile as I walked up the stairs I realized that Liam had looked out much better for me than I was for Seamus.

It was Caitlin's scream that awoke us in the middle of the night. Long, shrill, and unending; as soon as Josephine and I realized what it was we rushed down the stairs to Orla's room. She was frantically trying to calm her daughter but Caitlin pushed her arms away. We crowded around her for a few minutes to see if she was injured or simply had a bad dream.

"Mom! Dad!" Seamus' hoarse voice caught our attention and we turned to see him standing by the window, one shaking hand pointing outside towards the sky. We fell silent, even Caitlin's strange sounding voice becoming quiet. Then we heard it; as though from a great distance came the sounds of screams and crashes.

"Magog," Josephine was absolutely white as she said the word and I felt panic running through me. I looked around frantically, trying to think of what we should do.

"Quickly, downstairs!" Orla took Caitlin firmly by the arm and pulled her out the door lightning quick. Josephine and Brendan raced after her; only Seamus stood still, staring out the window -frozen with terror.

"Let's go!" I said sharply and I grabbed him by the shoulder. Not waiting for an answer I half dragged him behind me and down the stairs. In the main room Orla and Josephine had already pried open the old trapdoor. It hadn't been used in more than a year, and was covered in dust. Caitlin seemed more frightened of going inside the dark space rather than the threat of Magog. With our combined efforts we brought her in, then Brendan and Seamus, then the girls, and finally myself last, making sure the door shut completely. It was perhaps our best defence against the Magog, unless we wanted to make a run for the ocean shore. Soon the familiar, though still terrible, sounds of destruction and horror outside filled our ears.

Together we huddled in that dark, tight space, trying to keep Caitlin crying and each other from panicking. I was reminded of the trip from Ireland to the boat in the dark back of a transport vehicle. I could tell Orla was remembering it too as she reached over to grasp my hand and give me a smile. My other arm was around Josephine, who was clinging to me, head laying on my shoulder. Brendan and Caitlin were by their mother, holding each other's hands. Only Seamus sat near the back; arms around his legs, which he had pulled up, and head buried in his arms. I wanted to say or do something to comfort him but was afraid to risk making noise.

Our worst fears were realized when we heard feet -and claws- scraping above our heads. Our lives could easily have ended that night. We huddled, if it were possible, even closer to each other. Now Josephine had Seamus in a fierce hug. My sister, my wife, and I, all exchanged looks. It was a silent agreement among us; if the Magog found us, we'd fight so that the children might run away to safety. Maybe we wouldn't be able to do anything at all for them, but we had to try. Just as I was trying to ready myself for my last few minutes of death, there was a tremendous crash above us; harsh shrieking, as though the Magog were communicating, and then the sound of them leaving in a hurry. We were all relieved for perhaps a single moment. And then we realized why they had left.

The smell of acrid smoke quickly filled the small room. My eyes widened in disbelief: Our home was on fire! Pushing Orla and Caitlin aside, I reached for the latch, opened it, and pushed. Nothing happened. Whatever the crash had been, it must have fallen on the door, because I couldn't open it. The house was burning down and we were trapped inside.

Caitlin started screaming again, which only added to the chaos, as I tried to explain to Orla and Josephine that the door wouldn't open. Their faces showed fear, but both of them moved forward to try and help me push the door open. I told Brendan and Caitlin to sit in the back with Seamus to give us more room. Caitlin, tears streaming down her face, and Brendan, eyes wide with fear, both complied quickly. The smell of smoke grew stronger and as I touched the wood on the edges of the door my hands grew hot quickly. Had our hiding place saved us from the Magog only to trap us in a fiery death?

Maybe as we realized that if the door didn't open, all of us, including our children, would die, adrenaline surged through our bodies. Or maybe the fire had somehow loosened whatever lay above us; I don't really know. All I know is that we didn't die that night. As the three of us continued to push the door finally began to give way. With one last strain, it opened and I thrust my entire weight against it, throwing it open. I immediately had to close my eyes as they were stung with smoke. Fire was practically surrounding us, but I turned to help Orla and Josephine out. Orla was practically carrying Caitlin, and Josephine had turned to help me pull Brendan and Seamus out. The front door was blocked by fire but the kitchen remained untouched, so we used the small door through that room to take us outside. We ran from the house when suddenly Orla screamed loudly. Caitlin's painful cry quickly followed and I stopped running to see what was wrong. Caitlin's hair had caught fire and Orla was aimlessly trying to put it out. I pushed past Josephine and the boys to reach my niece. Ignoring her shouts, I pulled her to the ground and smothered the flames in the damp ground. Caitlin continued to cry as I helped her to her feet.

"Talk about out of the fire into the frying pan," I said gruffly, trying to calm everyone down. Orla gave me a weak smile and Brendan grinned for a quick moment. Certainly our danger was not over; Magog were still everywhere and we had to pull ourselves into the shadows surrounding the burning house. I was too tired to think of any more bright ideas. I supposed that if any more Magog came by, which seemed unlikely since the fire of the house would likely deter most beings, we could grab sticks, set them on fire, and fight off the aliens that way. For the most part though, we were left alone for the rest of the night, slumped against a nearby concrete wall, clinging to each other.

I think the others drifted in and out of sleep evantually, I don't know for sure. I know that I didn't sleep at all. My eyes were held by the sight of our home slowly burning down.

Somehow it didn't seem possible that our lives could resume. But they did. Evantually the Nietzscheans got soldiers to the Human Ghetto -the last place they came, of course,- and fought back. The Magog, once again, retreated, and we were left to pick up the pieces of our broken lives. Which was not nearly as easy as it sounded. Apparently the Nietzscheans had lost a lot of people, because for the next few weeks there were slave raids practically every night. Frankly it was a miracle that all of us survived the whole ordeal intact.

Or so I thought at the time.

To our surprise, a lot of the house was still standing. Barely. The first floor walls were mostly made of concrete or metal, and thus provided some minimal shelter. It took us weeks to clear out all the burned wood that had come from our upper floors. Some of the wood we salvaged to use in rebuilding, the rest we had to build from scrap pieces of other destroyed homes and buildings. We lost more than that however; practically all of our food had been destroyed as well, not to mention the few rags we had for extra clothes, blankets, etc.

It was going to be a hard winter that year; that was certain.

It turned out to be a harder one than any of us could imagine.

Everyone, even Caitlin, was busy helping to get some form of protective shelter up before the frost came. Luckily we had several weeks before the cold started. Every day the kids went out to search for materials we could use, or to beg for food. Several times both Brendan and Seamus would come back with arms full of food, but with vague stories as to how they came about it. Neither Orla or I were willing to condone stealing, but Josphine convinced us that desperate times called for desperate measures. Needless to say, the following months were exhausting, both physically and emotionally. In some ways it seemed unsurprising the lack of food and intense fatigue took it's toll.

Around the middle of Autumn, while helping me nail a board across one of the holes in our newly-built wall, Orla simply collapsed. Just as she had a long while ago when one of the more devastating plagues had swept through our homes. I'd heard of history repeating itself, but never had I imagined that it could do so in such terrible ways. Without a word, heart in my throat, I ran to her side and picked her up. I was startled by how little she weighed; Caitlin must have been heavier than she.

Crying out for Josephine I carried my sister inside and set her on the small pile of blankets we'd managed to accumulate.

"What's the matter Evan?" She came in and she stopped sharply upon seeing Orla.

"I don't know what happened! She just fainted...one moment she seemed fine and the next she was laying on the ground..." I hovered over both of them as Josephine felt her pulse and laid a hand against her cheek.

"She had a fever and her pulse is...erratic. She must have been skipping meals to save more for the children." Josephine sighed deeply and absently brushed a strand of hair from Orla's face.

"What do we do?" I asked promptly. Josephine looked up at me, eyes tired and looking older than I remembered them.

"What can we do Evan? I have no medicine, no clean water to speak of, practically no food..." She raised her hands helplessly and without thought I drew her into a tight hug, both seeking comfort and offering it.

"We can't let her die," I said hoarsely. Cheek against my shoulder, I felt Josephine nod.

"It's up to her now." Together we made her comfortable. Josephine went about trying to get her fever down and I sat by her side, hand holding Orla's gently.

"Devin..?" Her eyes opened for a moment and I forced a smile.

"Sorry Orla, just me, just Evan..."

"Evan..." She stared at me then closed her eyes again. When Brendan and Seamus returned, Caitlin trailing behind them, I told them to stay quiet so as not to disturb Orla. Of course Brendan was frantic, and even Caitlin showed an uncharacteristic trace of concern. Seamus watched her prone form with a silent expression. His face was that of an old man's and I couldn't help feeling despair begin to overcome me. Is there any frustration greater than that of knowing that you can do nothing to help ease the suffering of your loved ones?

All any of us could really do was make Orla comfortable, force-feed her broth (when we were even able to make that) and wait. Orla was stronger than she looked, and some days she would seem much improved and knew us; other days she drifted in and out of concsciouness. I wondered if Liam or any of the others ever came to her in her dreams. More than once she would call out for Devin; for our parents; and I would kiss her face, holding her hand tightly between my own. Josephine was as anxious as me, but she exerted her concern into more practical efforts, only stopping occassionally to ask how she was doing. I remember my last real conversation with her, a few weeks into winter, just after the first snows had started to stick on the ground.

"Evan is that you?" I jerked my head up; I'd been falling asleep as I sat beside her.

"I'm here Orla...how are you feeling?"

"Tired," Was her only reply, though she tried to muster a smile.

"You should rest, save your strength," I said quietly. She shook her head slowly at my words.

"It's not fair...this shouldn't be happening to you," I muttered angrily. She gave my hand a gentle sqeeze, sweat shining on her forehead.

"There are worse ways to die."

"You're not going to die.." I said sharply.

"Maybe not," She murmured, watching me with serene eyes.

"You have to stay alive! Brendan and Caitlin need you! Seamus needs you! -I need you."

"Not Josephine?" She attempted a playful smile to avoid answering.

"Josephine doesn't need anyone." I said in reply.

"She needs Seamus...and you." Her tone was serious this time and I could only give a soft shake of my head. I tried again.

"Devin will need you, when he comes back." This time Orla was silent for a long while before answering. She watched me, eyes unblinking, for countless moments.

"What if instead, I am going to him?"

"Don't say that," I admonished quietly, refusing to entertain her notions of dying.

"Don't worry so much Evan, everything will be alright..." and slowly her eyes closed again. My heart nearly stopped but she continued to breathing. She had only fallen asleep once more. At least she wasn't in any pain that we could see. For another whole week she stayed like that. When she did awake I was usually busy doing something else, but Brendan, Seamus, or Josephine would sit with her. Sometimes, when no one else was around and she didn't know I was watching, Caitlin would creep up to her mother and gently run her hands over her forehead. If Orla started to wake she'd run off quickly.

But as the days grew colder and the darkness grew longer, Orla faded a little more each day. Finally one night she awoke with a start and called to us. I was the only one there at the time but luckily the others were outside. I yelled for them to come quickly and soon we filled the small room. Orla didn't say much else; she just opened her eyes and smiled at us. Brendan stepped forward and she took his hand. She said something to him but none of us could hear. Longer minutes passed when suddenly Caitlin rushed forward, burying her head against her mother.

"Caitlin..." Orla smiled again, and with, I think, the last of her strength, brushed away Caitlin's tears. Her eyes flicked over to me and I nodded, tears blurring my vision.

..._Will you protect them?..._

_...I'll do my best; if it'll be enough..._

_...It will be enough..._

The words didn't need to be said out loud for us to understand each other. It had pretty much always been that way between us. For all my life, literally, Orla had been by my side. Never had the two of us been seperated. It was a startling thought. And now we would never be at each other's side again in this life.

Sad as it was; I cried fewer tears than I had for Liam, Lughna, Siobhan, or Declan. I'm not sure why. Maybe it was because Orla seemed so resigned to her fate. Maybe it was because I couldn't help but feel that wherever she was now, it had to be better than our life here. There was no wood to be spared for burning; instead we dug a grave one wet day when the sky couldn't decide whether it wished to rain or snow, and therefore did both. I wasn't the only one who she only a few silent tears; Seamus didn't seem able to cry at all but stared at his Aunt's makeshift coffin with sunken eyes; Brendan, an arm around Caitlin tightly, pushed away tears steadily, Josephine cried little as well...only Caitlin wept in such a way that we'd never seen before. Brendan tried to embrace her, and to our surprise, Caitlin let him enfold her with his arms. Just as their cousins before them...they had been orphaned at a young age. And again, they were not truly orphaned. Josephine and I were there, and vowed to protect them till our last breath.

And we did.

Author's Note:

Wow! Look at how quickly I got this written! And it's long too! O.O Yay! Now should I post it quickly or wait a few days...? hmm....I guess I'll be nice and post it right away. In return, you have to forgive any grammar/spelling mistakes. Well, I know it was pretty sad, but trust me...it'll probably get worse, though not right away...honestly, I have no idea how many more chapters this will take. I'm estimating...one more from josephine's point of view...and...and....one that's split between them, and that's probably going to be it! Wow...well, I'll post the next chapter when I'm able to write it. I wouldn't hold my breath though, if I were you...Thanks for reading,

Luna Sealeaf


	18. Episode Eighteen

**Earth's Children**

Author: Luna Sealeaf

Summary: Harpers' parents tell their tale of life and love in Post-Commonwealth Earth

Rating: PG-13

Disclaimer: No, I do not own the universe of Andromeda, nor do I own characters such as Harper or Brendan (obviously) I made up the characters of Josephine and Evan...blah blah blah..etc, you get it. Please don't copy my story (at least not without letting me know first) and please don't sue.

Death comes like a thief in the night

To steal while you sleep the soul's flickering light

Well maybe it's then, she said

I'll see you again

Cause the son never shines on closed doors.

-Ancient Earth lyrics (Flogging Molly)

Episode Eighteen

The street was a long one, and filled with destitute people. Gray was the color, as well as the only adornment, on both the buildings and the humans that lingered by them. A full, though pale, moon hung low in the gray sky.

My footsteps echoed hollowly as I clutched the blanket around my shoulders, face staring expressionless and void of emotion, forward. I might have smelled bad, having been unwashed for several weeks, but it was no worse than the rest of the city and so I blended in. Many others passed by me in this way; the streets were lined with people sitting and sleeping, while strangers filtered through, intent on their own personal missions. We ignored each other, except for the suspicious glances towards those looking like thieves or collaborators.

For months I had passed down this route, eyes open but unseeing, body cold but alive. Mind numb but thoughts racing through it.

Five months ago I would not have noticed the woman at all. I would have walked by, oblivious, as all the other people in the streets were doing. But I did see her, and I stopped to watch her actions with a familiar but long dead sensation running through me -emotions. Sadness. Anger. Frustration. I was surprised at the stir of life within myself and so I looked closer at her.

There was no guessing her age; she looked maybe a little older than me, but it had been so long since I had looked at my reflection that for all I know, according to others she may have looked half my age. A tattered gray blanket, much like my own, covered her head and shoulders, rags hung on her skinny frame and blended in with her dirty, gray skin. Her hands were holding the cloth of the blanket tightly over something, and while her face stared down, a glazed expression hiding her thoughts -if, indeed, she had any- tears ran steadily down her cheeks. A few steps closer and I saw what she held the blanket over; it was a crying, squalling baby.

Shocked, and shocked at the fact that I was shocked, I took a few steps forward.

"What are you doing?" My voice sounded hoarse and raw. My ears rebelled at their harsh sound and I almost forgot what I was doing. Others passed by us; either unhearing or unwilling to hear. For all our silence as a mass of human beings, my words seemed swallowed up by the very air itself. The woman slowly turned her head to me; wide eyes, made bigger by her face pinched with hunger, stared at me. I was startled; taken aback. She seemed Despair made into human form. But the struggling form of the baby brought words back into my mouth.

"Stop it," I walked forward again, then bent to snatch the child from her arms. With an ironic air of protectiveness, the woman scrambled to her feet and clutched the baby to her.

"Go away! What business is it of yours?" Her voice was as haggard as the rest of her appearence but I had no guilt or sympathy left for her; it was all wasted upon myself.

"Can't you see you're smothering it?" I protested, still a little surprised at the strength of my thoughts and willfulness to protect the helpless child.

"She's better off dead than alive," This time her voice was filled with tears, which once more ran unchecked from her eyes, making little paths in the dirt covering her face.

"If you cannot take care of her, than give her to someone who can," Who this person was that could take care of the baby girl, I could not say, but it seemed to my mind that surely someone, out of all these hundreds of silent forms, had the means and the will to raise a child, though they not be of their own blood.

"Her father died last night! I have no one else! My own mother killed my little brother and sisters, who are you to tell me differently? Who are you to tell me that she would be happy in this life, and not suffer the misery and pain that I have suffered? How dare you tell me she would not be better off in a different world?"

She spoke eloquently for a woman with nothing to her name; apparently, not even another human being. Perhaps she had gone to school, or had once known someone who had done so. Idly these thoughts passed through me as I struggled to think up an argument. It occurred to me that she may even be right; how could I know that the world beyond this one was not better? I shook these ideas from my head.

"You have her; your daughter. And she has you; together maybe your life will be better. Her life should be a comfort to you, if you loved her father, not a burden. Don't let your past pain and misery cause you to give up on life; as long as any one of us is still alive, then there is still hope for -for everything!" As I spoke I felt a great well of intense feelings, one might even dare to call it passion, rising through me. My words resounded in my head so that I was talking to myself and not merely to the poor wretch in front of me.

But my words had not the effect I desired. The woman stared at me unblinking for a time and then slowly shook her head. My heart sank once more into its pit of despair as she held out her arms.

"You take her then. I will not waste my energy trying to make her live, simply to have her die like all the others. I cannot bear it. At least if you take her away I can die pretending that she lived a full life of happiness."

With a sigh, my arms like lead, I accepted the tiny bundle of crying infant. Just before I turned away I remembered something and looked once more toward the woman,

"What is her name?" The woman looked at me with a deep weariness seeping from her.

"Marie."

"And, when she is grown, what shall I tell her is her mother's name?" I said the words softly, not knowing if she would prefer to remain unconnected from the girl's life completely. I saw her hesitate and thought she would not say, and then,

"Tell her that her mother's name was Fiona." And slowly she sank back to her spot on the ground; fading into the scenery as though what had passed had been a vision or dream interrupting the normal pattern of reality. I walked away, not paying attention to the direction I was walking in, and stared at the red faced baby. Fiona. My ears pounded and my breath quickened. It was the name that a young man, barely more than a boy, had once given to a fiery and spirited young woman.

At that thought I nearly laughed. If, looking back, I were to call myself 'fiery' and 'spirited' when I was eighteen and had then considered myself morose and disattached to life, then how would I describe myself now? I'm not sure I wanted to know the answer to that question.

I had not taken more than a few steps when a voice cried out,

"Wait!" Turning, I saw a figure swimming through the figures that passed around us -indifferent as a sea- hardly resembling the shrunken figure I had just spoken to.

"Do you have any children of your own? Are you a mother?" Somehow I knew this was important to her, but I couldn't help feeling angry, as though she knew my life story and was picking at my wounds on purpose. I summoned a smile, though even I could tell that it stretched thinly across my face.

"I was...once. Once I was a mother." And I left her with those sad words; standing alone while surrounded by a hundred or more bodies that were, if one looked closely enough, nothing more than empty shells.

I should not begin this episode of my life in such a way; it will be easier to explain if I start at an earlier time in my memories...

_Six months earlier_

A few weeks after the death of my sister-in-law, Orla Harper Lahey, I awoke to the shape of my husband outlined by the faint light that crept in through our grimy window. Seamus was nowhere to be seen, so I climbed out of bed.

"Is it morning?" I asked dumbly, my mind still foggy from sleep. Evan started at my voice, but smiled as he turned to face me. I walked into his arms and laid my head on his shoulder.

"Just about. At least, I think so." He sounded uncertain, as though his mind was currently on other matters.

"What woke you?" I said quietly, a dull headache making my ears pound.

"My thoughts...or rather, memories." He gave me another quick smile as I looked up at him with curiosity.

"Memories of what?"

"Of Orla, of something we once talked about before she died." I put my head back on his shoulder, not intending to pry or make him revisit sad thoughts, but to my surprise he continued anyway.

"When she first fell ill, the second time that is, I told her that she couldn't die or else I'd be the last Harper alive." A different woman may have taken offense at the words, but I didn't. I understood that he didn't mean that his sister was more important than I.

"What did she say?" I ventured to ask.

"That I was wrong, and of course I was, -she said that Seamus was a Harper, as would his children be."

"She was right." I murmured, my eyelids drooping.

"Indeed she was." Evan said the words softly, placed a kiss on my forehead and then my mouth, before gently helping me back to the bed.

"I'll see to the house; you look too tired to be up yet." I tried to nod or thank him, but the words and gesture was beyond me. In moments I fell back asleep.

But it was not the peaceful rest I hungered for; my mind was again filled with dreams, dream so vivid that I would never forget them. They were the strange fragmented visions that I had always connected my son with. Once more I was standing in the middle of nothing; bright lights shining all around me. There was somebody, or something, next to me, but no matter how I turned I could not see her. But she spoke, and I never forgot a single word that passed between myself and that strange dream figure.

"We must decide, you and I, which is stronger; the Sun or the Earth."

"Why?" I would call out, that single word holding a thousand different meanings. The voice grew louder.

"I must know which spirit still Lives and Grows; and which one is Dying and Weak."

"Why do you ask me?"

"Because you are Earth." And then the scene changed abruptly; hands and claws were tearing at me from all sides; people called me a name that was not mine, but sounded familiar. The image of a pale and red headed woman filled my eyes, she said something in a soothing tone, but I could not make out the words; she was touching my forehead and the touch burned, it burned so badly that I was screaming, thrashing my arms to try and get her off; and then the claws and hands were back, once again ripping my body to pieces-

"Mom, mom! Wake up!"

My eyes flew open and I gasped audibly. I was covered in sweat, and tangled up in the few blankets that lay on the bed. Concerned blue eyes met mine, hands gripped my shoulders.

"Mom, are you alright?" It took me a moment, but then the horrid nightmare was gone and I recognized both the face and the voice. It was my son, Seamus. The fact that I had not known him immediately frightened me more than the dream.

"Yes, I'm fine." I sat up in bed and his hands dropped away. I brought my own to my face; my skin was clammy, my fingers like ice.

"You were screaming; were you having a nightmare?" His tone was both anxious and curious. I gave him a smile and started to get out of bed.

"I was, but I'm better now that you woke me up; thank you love." I kissed his cheek and he blushed slightly; having just turned fifteen, Seamus was not used to receiving such affectionate words or gestures. When I would sometimes feel guilty about my critical eyes and words, my sometimes too-harsh judgements, I would explain that it was only because I expected more of him than of other people.

He watched me seriously as I stood up and began making the bed.

"You look tired," he said bluntly. I gave him a smile that did not reach my eyes as an answer.

"I'll be ok. Where are your cousins and your father?" I asked to change the subject.

"Caitlin's outside playing my tin whistle, _again_," He said in obvious frustration, adding, "She plays that thing more than I do!" I frowned at him and he quickly continued on, "Um, Dad went to the Market and I don't know where Brendan went-" I cut him off by holding my hand up, straining my ears. Seamus stopped talking and looked at me in puzzlement. But the sounds of screaming and the familiar hum and whir of machines were unmistakeable.

"Ubers." Seamus said the word in a low voice, face darkening. The slave raids had increased lately, though none of us knew why. Without another word I grabbed him by the shoulder and hurried him out the door and down the stairs.

"Get Caitlin," I ordered as I looked in the different rooms for Brendan. There was no sign of either him or Evan. I could only hope that the two of them stayed somewhere safe. Meanwhile I hid with Caitlin and Seamus in our familiar hole in the floor. Ever since that terrible Magog attack one summer ago, when the house had burned down, we had been weary of using it; but what other choice did we have? Luckily the Nietzscheans didn't even look in our house this time. Before long I heard heavy footsteps and worried voices calling our names.

Pushing open the door I called out,

"We're over here." As both Evan and my nephew came rushing into sight I sighed in relief that the two of them were safe. I proceeded to cook dinner while Evan went out to inquire after the our few friends; some of them made it, others were taken away. After we ate, Seamus muttered something about 'going out and looking for parts' while Brendan quickly offered to go with him. They put their dishes away (wood cups and plates fashioned from bark, scraps of metal, all sorts of odds and ends) and hurried outside before either Evan or myself could question them. When I voiced my concern over their whereabouts, Evan just stated the obvious; they were grown boys, practically men, and we couldn't always be watching over them.

Still, I worried as only a mother could worry, focusing my energies on my work, Caitlin, or Evan, just to make the time go by faster. Then, late in the night, the two of them would return home, full of secretive smiles and playful grins, their good mood so contagious that we would all spend the rest of the night laughing and sharing jokes or stories.

But then one night, a few months later, they didn't come home. I paced the main room until Evan at last insisted we go to bed. After seeing Caitlin asleep, I joined Evan upstairs and forced myself to lay down, willing my body to sleep. It seemed impossible, but I did manage to sleep for a time. I was awakened in the middle of the night however, by a strange sound. Sitting up in my and squinting in the dark I made out the form of my son on the mats that had been his bed for more years than I cared to count. Beside me Evan snored softly, obvlivious to the noise that had disturbed my sleep.

Slipping out of bed I walked over towards the door. Groping in the darkness I found our small supply of matches and the homemade candle. Lighting it, I then walked softly over to my son's form. He lay on his side, back towards my bed, but I knew he was awake. Setting the candle down on the floor, and going to my knees with minimal difficulty despite my advanced age, I asked in a whisper,

"Seamus, what is it? Why are you crying?" A question I had not asked him in a very long time. To my relief he did not deny his tears or tell me nothing was wrong, or pretend to be asleep. No, Seamus turned on his side, and when I looked into his eyes I reached out impulsively to place a soothing hand on his cheek. As he struggled to stop crying long enough to form words, I studied my son. From his spiky, unnaturally bright hair, to the metal earring that glinted in the candlelight, to his gray long sleeved shirt, brown dirty pants, to the hand made vest (a gift from a couple of years ago) that was his only blanket. In the day he and Brendan sometimes even lined their eyes with charcoal, claiming that it gave them a 'tough, hardened look', something they strongly felt would help increase their chances of survival. But looking at his face, I could not see a hard, dangerous man.

All I could see was my little boy with beautiful blue eyes, a piece of metal stuck through his ear (that I still cringed at; the tattoo was bad enough, but sticking some object through his flesh and _leaving_ it there seemed too great a temptation of fate) and when Evan had seen the unnecessary 'piercing' as he called it, there had been a great uproar between the two. They had fought and shouted into the night; but finally the two had come to terms. Seamus promised to never do anything like that again, and the earring was allowed.

"It's Isaac -he's dead. He died." Seamus brought a hand to his mouth and clutched at it to try and muffle the sounds of his tears. Isaac, the sweet and funny lad who had befriended my son and nephew when they were just children. I sighed deeply and lay down on my side next to him, taking him in my arms as though he was ten years younger. I had not held my son in such a way for more months than I could remember, and although I was deeply sad at my son's loss, I couldn't help but enjoy the feeling of being needed.

"How did he die?" I asked after several moments to give my son time to collect himself. He seemed to hesitate and would not meet my eyes.

"Nietzscheans killed him." He said at last. I brushed a hand through his hair and closed my eyes painfully, assuming he'd been killed during one of the slave raids.

"Don't tell Brendan," he said in a hoarse voice.

"Doesn't he already know?" I asked in surprise, meeting Seamus' eyes with my own. He shook his pale face.

"I don't mean Isaac...I mean...don't tell him I was -that I was crying." I gave Seamus a tight hug.

"Your secret is safe with me." I said in a gentle whisper. No need to ask why it was a secret; weakness, in any shape or form, usually led to an early death.

After the death of Isaac, for whatever reason, both Brendan and Seamus stayed home more. When they did leave it was to go to the junkyard to assemble parts. Seamus would keep the best items for us, and sell or trade the others. I was proud of him, but I think it sometimes shamed Evan that he had to rely on his son for so much. They would get into louded heated arguments over the most unimportant things, both entreating me to take sides, which I never did. But the two always made up and forgave each other; they had to. After all, they were father and son.

Caitlin often went with her brother and cousin. Seamus reported proudly to me that she was every bit as good as he at fixing things. While she never said a word, she sometimes would smile at him when he said those things. We weren't the only ones surprised at Caitlin's abilities; some of friends and neighbors would notice her doing something, such as playing Seamus' tin whistle as well or better than he or even Evan, and remark on it. I was both proud of my niece and afraid for her. It was never a good thing, no matter what anybody said, to attract attention. But when I tried to keep Caitlin from going to the junkyard she would become furious and go into fierce temper tantrums that did not suit her age of thirteen.

In the end, my instincts proved to be true. It was never a good idea to attract attention. But Caitlin couldn't help attracting attention; people would look at her once, give her a second glance because of her fresh beauty and strangely serene face, and then they would notice her lack of speech, and then the questions began. But never, in a million years, could I have predicted the destructive attention she'd bring to herself.

It all came back to that day; that one day when I said goodbye to the three children. Evan and I were looking forward to an afternoon all to ourselves, and the day passed by pleasantly. We didn't expect them to return until later that evening, and were thus surprised at the sound of feet racing and voices crying. A moment later Brendan and Caitlin burst through the door; my niece in tears, and both of them looking the worse for wear. My heart dropped a thousand feet to rest in the pit of my stomach.

"Where's Seamus?" Were the first words out of my mouth.

"He's gone! Those Uber _bastards_ took him! We tried to stop them, they came after Caitlin and me and Seamus told her to run while we held them off; I got away, and I thought Seamus was right behind me, but then he wasn't and I saw them taking him away-" He spoke so quickly that I almost couldn't decipher the words, but then I felt the blood drain from my face and I suddenly felt faint. Evan had leapt to his feet at Brendan's first few words; a look of such anger upon his face that I was distracted for a moment and actually a little frightened of him.

"Slow down Brendan; take a deep breath, now explain to us again, this time tell us exactly what happened." Brendan struggled to catch his breath and finally the story came out. They were the only ones in the junkyard, that they could tell anyway, as they usually were. The three of them were hard at work looking for useful pieces or parts when suddenly Caitlin had screamed. A small group of Nietzscheans had surrounded the junkyard and were trying to get Caitlin, ignoring Brendan and Seamus until they attacked the Nietzscheans, ordering Caitlin to run as soon as she was free of their grasp. Once she had reached a good distance; to their luck and puzzlement, the Nietzscheans carried only small stun guns that could not shoot very far, Brendan raced after her when Seamus yelled at him to go. When Brendan realized that the Nietzscheans weren't following them, he'd turned around to ask Seamus what was going on, only to find that his cousin was slumped over the back of one of the Ubers, who were already disappearing from view. Not knowing what else to do, Brendan was torn between following them to see where they took Seamus, and making sure Caitlin got home safely.

I was numb, and I cannot recall the events of the rest of that night, or of the next day. I think Evan went out searching for him, or for information of why he'd been taken. It seemed obvious that one of our neighbors were either collaborators themselves, or had told collaborators, about Caitlin's strange abilities, and had triggered the interest of the Nietzscheans. But why had they taken Seamus? My blood ran cold at the thought of them performing experiments on him, a common and indeed, open scientific practice among the Uber 'researchers' or even just the thought of being sold into slavery. One thing was certain; the odds of my seeing my son alive again were as slim as the odds that I would ever leave Earth.

My greatest fear had come to pass. My one certainty, my one assurance of life was that no matter what might happen to me or Evan, Seamus would live, that he would grow or prosper. That stern faith was gone. No matter how I tried to convince myself, I just could not see how Seamus could fulfill any sort of destiny while in the hands of Nietzscheans. His life was over just as my hopes for him were beginning to flower. Never have I known such destitution; for the past fifteen years I had held one belief; and that belief had been utterly shattered in less than a day.

The feeling of helplessness tormented me both day and night. Evan and I both were like ghosts; even our love for our niece and nephew could barely sustain us. Hell; even our love for _each other _was almost not enough. But it must have been, somehow, because here we were, still alive. And everyday since then I had walked that long and lonely alleyway, because it the link between the Human Ghetto, Space Harbor, and Nietzschean Quarter. I walked every day, just in case...just in case Seamus had managed to escape, or perhaps I would catch a glimpse of him...it was a faint hope, and one I knew was unlikely to be fulfilled, but I walked nevertheless.

And now I held this small baby in my arms. Marie. Such a pretty name...I wonder what I would have named my daughter, if I had born one. Not knowing what else to do, I took the child home and had the task of explaining to Evan how I had somehow adopted a baby girl. He accepted my explanation, and agreed that I could not simply have let the woman kill her. But there was an unspoken agreement that, if the occassion should arrive, we would have to give her up.

I knew that, I really did, but I didn't care. For now Marie was the center of my universe. She helped me to live again. I could smile and laugh with my niece and nephew, my blood-adopted children. I could embrace Evan and return his kisses and caresses with the passion in which he gave them. I didn't accept that Seamus was gone; somehow my heart would never really believe that. But my mind told me that I would never see him again, so I had better concentrate on the good things in my life. When I first met her, Marie was about a year old, or so I guessed. A bright smiling two year old, long brown hair constantly getting tangled, and dark brown eyes, though both were lighter than mine, she was practically a little angel.

I think Caitlin disliked her a bit, maybe she was jealous of the attention I gave her. At barely two years old, Marie had uttered more words and phrases than Caitlin had in her fourteen years of life. Brendan liked the girl, I think, for he often smiled at her sadly and would agree to play with her. I could never honestly figure out how Evan felt about the child. I think he tried to distance himself from her, but sometimes he would catch her up in his arms and spin her around, as he used to do with Seamus.

But the day came, as we suspected it would, when a chance for a better life came along for Marie. She loved looking at the spaceships, and so I would go on walks with her in the evening to marvel at the huge crafts. She would squeal with laughter when they took off in the air, like so many giant metal butterflies. And the one day we were approached by two spacers; a young man and a young woman, who looked like they were husband and wife. I remember gripping Marie's hand tightly as I watched the two walk over to us. They both smiled, and while the man talked, the woman was gazing at Marie with a rapt gaze.

"Ma'm, is that your daughter?" He asked softly. I held Marie close to me but shook my head.

"No, I simply took her in; her mother gave her up."

"My name's Greg Jalen, and this is my wife Lucie...we don't have any children." He said the words a little awkwardly and I gave a kind smile, not sure how else to answer.

"She's a beautiful little girl, what's her name?" Lucie asked. I hesitated and looked the couple over before answering. I seldom did important things on a whim, but I could tell that the two were decent people. They looked well fed and were warmly dressed; and if it's true about the eyes being the window to the soul, than these people were very good souls indeed.

"Her name is Marie. What is your business on Earth?" It was really the only important question I had to ask them; if they were collaborators with Nietzscheans, I would never give Marie up to them. The woman's look softened even more before she answered; and I saw a look of pity pass over both their faces.

"We are part of the relief aid employed by the Drago-Kazov for refugee camps that are attacked by Magog. We deliver food and supplies." They were obviously proud of their work and I had not the heart to tell them that in truth, the people who needed those supplies the most never saw them. Cheap supplies went straight to Nietzschean soldiers; these people, and many like them, were constantly taken advantage of. But I nodded nonetheless.

"You seem like very kind people. Do you plan on having children someday?" The pair exchanged a look.

"We've been trying to have children for some time but...it doesn't seem like we'll have any luck."

"Is there room to spare for a small child?" I finally asked in a somber tone. Greg and Lucie gripped each other's hands and smiles blazed on their faces, showing the whitest teeth I had ever seen.

"Of course! Oh, we'll take such good care of her, you have no idea -"

"I'm sure she'll be happier with you than she could ever be down here." I cut them off.

"Please give me just a moment." They nodded eagerly and began talking in fast tones while I knelt in front of the little girl, who had been digging in the dirt all the while.

"Marie, you're going to have parents now. You're going to have a home. I love you; and I hope you like your new life. It's for the best." The little girl, not understanding me, simply smiled, and I felt tears press against my eyes. If only she were a little older, then perhaps she would understand just how amazing this opportunity was! How rare and special her life was going to be. How I was not abandoning her, but helping her out my love for her. One last hug and then I picked her up and handed her to Lucie. I tried to think of something to say; some words of advice on how to raise her, but no words came to me.

"Take care of her, I beg you." Was all I said. Silently, I added, _Better than I took care of my son..._ Lucie clasped the girl to her and stroked her dirty hair and I turned to walk home. If it had been Seamus, instead of Marie, could I have given him up? Could I have given up my own flesh and blood if I could be sure he would live a better life? Would I have chosen selfishly or thought of my child's needs? But life wasn't that complicated:

My son had died; and the child I had taken in was given away. There were only three people on the entire planet I could call family. And I was considered lucky...

A/N:

Just a quick note; no, I did not misspell 'son' in the lyrics; it's supposed to be that way. Only one more chapter! Oh no!! I tried to make this one really good and not simply a boring old 'filler' chapter. Josephine always seems to get the boring times...and I know the ending probably dragged; I was originally going to simply have Marie die as a baby...but the next chapter is going to be so depressing that I couldn't bear another unhappy ending. Thanks,

Luna Sealeaf

P.S. -if you have a few minutes to spare, could you bring yourself to read my original fic; I only ask because I want honest opinions/suggestions/help from people who I know are really good writers themselves, but I understand if you're not interested or don't have the time. Thanks!


	19. Episode Nineteen

**Earth's Children**

Author: Luna Sealeaf

Summary: Harpers' parents tell their tale of life and love in Post-Commonwealth Earth

Rating: PG-13 (Maybe R for a few graphic(violent) images or dark themes)

Disclaimer: No, I do not own the universe of Andromeda, nor do I own characters such as Harper or Brendan (obviously) I made up the characters of Josephine and Evan...blah blah blah..etc, you get it. Please don't copy my story (at least not without letting me know first) and please don't sue.

When the dark wood fell before me,

And all the paths were overgrown...

I did not believe because I could not see

Though you came to me in the night

When the dawn seemed forever lost

You showed me your love in the light of the stars

Cast your eyes on the ocean

Cast your soul to the sea

When the dark night seems endless

Please remember me...

Though we share this humble path, alone

How fragile is the heart

Oh give these clay feet wings to fly

To touch the face of the stars

Breathe life into this feeble heart

Lift this mortal veil of fear

Take these crumbled hopes, etched with tears

We'll rise above these Earthly cares

Cast your eyes on the ocean

Cast your soul to the sea

When the dark night seems endless

Please remember me...

  
Please remember me...

Episode Nineteen

I've never believed in miracles. I've never believed in God. I've never believed in fate, or destiny, or whatever else you may call it. I wasn't even sure I believed in such a thing as luck, for who knew what that really was? Josephine once told me that sometimes she prayed; not because she honestly believed it would do any good, but because it helped to comfort her. I had scoffed at the idea when she suggested I try it sometime. I had told her the only divinity I needed in my life was the one who slept next to me every night. I belonged to the Order of Josephine. We had laughed over it and never really talked about it again.

But when Seamus was taken I did pray. I hoped for the first time in my life that I had been wrong; I begged to Whatever Deity Still Lives that my son was alive, that he was safe. I was not so selfish as to pray that I would see him again. But despite what my wife had said, the prayers did little to comfort me.

Until they were answered.

The loss of Seamus had broken us. We tried to be cheerful and optimistic for Brendan and Caitlin, for we both truly loved them; but each of us were slowly fading away. Although Josephine and I clung to each other at night we rarely spoke during the day. Brendan was rarely ever home and Caitlin...she was worse off than any of us. Every morning her eyes were ringed with dark circles. She would not eat and cried, often shrieking, almost every day. When any one of us tried to comfort her or talk to her she went in a rage. It was as if she wanted to share her grief but was incapable of doing so, and the frustration nearly drove her mad.

I had taken to going on long walks every morning and night. Sometimes Josephine or one of the children accompanied me, but more often than not I would go alone. It was late evening when my son was returned to me. I had gone to the beach, trying to ignore the litter and trash that pervaded its shores. I had wandered farther than I had thought and was startled to find myself on the border between the Nietzschean Quarters and Human Ghetto. Hands in grimy pockets, I turned to walk back when a movement in the darkness caught my eye.

Turning slowly I saw a figure move towards me and was instantly on my guard. The sun was setting but the figure was hidden by shadows. My hand went to my boot, out of which I took a long knife and held it behind my back, moving forward cautiously. I'd rather face a danger head on than let it take me in the back. The figure slinked forward, stepping onto the rocks a little ahead of me. I gasped loudly and felt my heart stop, for I was looking at a ghost. For surely it could not really be Seamus, my lost son, who was standing there. It was not possible. I stared at the specter for a few minutes and it stared back.

"Dad?"

I had to catch myself again; it had spoken, but the voice was not my son's. It couldn't be. Seamus had a voice of laughter and sometimes mockery; this voice was hollow, haunted, and the word said far too timidly.

"Seamus?" I replied despite my disbelief. Racing through my mind were the words _What if? What if? What if? _-repeating a thousand times in one second. And then I felt the wind knocked out of me as the ghost threw himself at me, arms held tightly around me. He was crying; and it was then that I realized it was real. This was really my son; alive and returned to me. A miracle had occurred; my prayers had been answered. My knife cluttered to the rocks forgotten as I held my son to me. It didn't matter that he smelled badly; it didn't matter that his eyes were large and sunken into his face; it didn't matter that he was so skinny I could easily have picked him up. All that mattered was that he was here, with me, and safe.

There were not enough words for all that needed to be said.

"I'm home," Seamus wept and I was soon crying too, crying as I have not done since -since I could not remember. I helped him back to the house, neither of us able to speak, just clinging to each other, all dignity and pride forgotten. As we walked I looked over him; his clothes, a dark crusty brown and gray, were little more than rags; I could see the bones of his chest and his arms were thin and spindly. Yet for all that, he had grown a little taller, only an inch or two shorter than myself.

I cannot describe the looks on the faces of Josephine, Brendan, and Caitlin as the two of us walked inside. I was grinning broadly now, even as tears still streamed down my face.

"Mom-" Seamus started to cry out but he could not finish for Josephine had flung herself to him, taking him from me and into her arms, sobbing wildly. She only paused to look over him, whispering,

"Is it really you? How is it possible?" But before he could answer she was hugging him again. A moment later Brendan and Caitlin were crowding around the two of them; talking and yelling and crying and all trying to hug him. The light in our lives burned once more. I think we spent more than an hour just standing there, hugging and crying and talking incoherently. Then at last Josephine released him, told him to sit and rest so she could get him something to eat. Seamus nodded faintly and went to sit on the homemade, dilapidated couch. Brendan sat next to him, an arm slung around his cousin's shoulders. I took a chair and pulled it over to the couch, next to him but also across from him. Caitlin sat on the floor by his legs, looking at him as one might look upon a god. She was smiling broadly; never had she looked so beautiful. So happy.

We had little food left and were not sure when we'd be able to get more, but that didn't stop Josephine from making a huge dinner for Seamus. Scooping it onto a plate and handing it to him she watched him eat for a few seconds then paced nervously. Finally she sat on the other side of him, eyes still shining with tears. When at last he had finished eating he clasped his hands together and stared at the floor.

"You look exhausted Seamus, why don't you go to sleep? We can talk in the morning, if you feel like it." Josephine said softly as she ran a hand through his hair.

"Yeah...I'd like to sleep." Seamus echoed faintly. He cast a wide-eyed look at all of us before giving the briefest of smiles and slowly going upstairs.

I'm pretty sure none of us slept that night. I felt Josephine wake up several times in the night to sit up in bed and look at the form of our son as though to make sure he hadn't disappeared in the night. He had been gone for little over a year. His sudden return was hard to believe.

The next morning was a bit tense as we all tried to eat and keep from staring at Seamus. He picked at his food and evantually went to the living room. I asked Brendan and Caitlin if they'd mind letting Josephine and I talk to him alone for a few minutes. Caitlin frowned as though she were a little confused at our words but Brendan nodded. Exchanging looks with Josephine I took her hand in mine, rubbing it gently to try and give it warmth before following our son.

He was leaning forward, head almost resting on his knees, when we entered the room. He stayed in that position for nearly five minutes before sighing heavily and sitting up. Josephine reached forward to take his hands in her own.

"Can you tell us what happened Seamus? How you came home?" the words were said soothingly; softly. Seamus nodded and closed his eyes, perhaps to gather his thoughts, before speaking.

"I don't know where they took me, exactly. I think it was a couple of cliques from the Ghetto. And I kept being taken to different buildings. Sometimes they questioned me about stuff, mostly about Caitlin, but sometimes they asked me questions about myself too. Some days they put me through -experiments" His voice sounded strangled as he said the last word and I reached over to grip his shoulder tightly, feeling my own throat tighten even as anger welled up in me.

"And then other days I would work in places -factories, mines, things like that." His eyes lifted to meet ours. "There was a little girl there. I think she was only four...her name was Eriko. I -I started to take care of her. They didn't feed us individually, you know. We had to fight for our rations, and I gave most of whatever food I could get to Eriko." His eyes seemed to lose focus as he continued talking, "She was so little...but I thought she was growing stronger. I thought I was helping to save her. She was the only friend I had; and I think she mistook me for her Dad, or maybe her older brother. But then -but then she fell sick. I think; I'm not sure. She stopped eating and just grew weaker and weaker, sometimes she'd throw up. After about a month she just died."

Seamus was now staring at his open hands, a look of bewilderement on his face. I got the feeling that the little girl had died in his arms. He was silent for a few minutes; Josephine was crying silently beside me.

"I don't remember a lot of what happened for the next while." He was lying; I could tell from the way he averted his eyes when he said those words. And it made me want to cry as well, for I knew it meant that things too terrible for him to tell us had happened. He was trying to protect us, when it should have been the other way around. He pressed his hands to his eyes for a moment before continuing in a cracked voice,

"Mom, Dad, I saw, I saw -Uncle Devin!"

"What?" Josephine rocked forward and I was shocked too. Those were probably the last words we expected to hear from him.

"He was in one of the factories. I recognized him after awhile, and we were able to talk. He told me that he had a plan to escape; had been stealing stuff, he wouldn't tell me what, to bribe one of the night guards with. I think they were drugs, but I don't know for sure. We spent the last few months together; I told him about all of you, and about Aunt Orla..." His shoulders slumped and Josephine looked at me with pained eyes.

"He got really mad when I told him how the Nietzscheans who'd taken me had been after Caitlin. Anyway, he finally got enough of whatever it was, to bribe the guard. He'd been planning this for months but he claimed my being there didn't change anything. But it did..." He stopped talking again, took a few deep breaths before he could say anything else,

"I guess the guard had only expected Devin. When he saw me, maybe he panicked. Maybe he thought Devin had lied and there really were a lot more of us escaping. One kludge disappearing was no big deal, but more than one and he'd get blamed for it. Just as I had left the gate, when he saw Devin, he raised the alarm. Devin shouted at me to keep running, so I did. I didn't look back, and I didn't stop running till I recognized where I was." He was openly crying once more.

"If it hadn't been for me Uncle Devin would have come back. Just like Aunt Orla always said he would. It's my fault Brendan and Caitlin aren't ever going to see their Dad again..." Neither of us could stand to see him this way; Josephine quickly folded him into her arms, tears running down her face. She kissed his head and held him to her for a few minutes before speaking.

"It's most certainly not your fault, Seamus. It was Devin's choice. If I had been in his place, and Caitlin or Brendan in yours, I would have done the same. So would your father. It's the Ubers' fault that Devin was taken from us. You are blameless." She stopped talking as his crying increased.

"At least you were able to see him, and he you." I said at last, feeling like the words were vastly inadequate. But Seamus nodded and at last his tears ceased.

"Anyway, you're home now. That's all that matters. We're together again, and nothing will ever change that." I said confidently. My son grinned back at me and that's when I knew everything was ok.

The very next day I crept out of the house early in the morning. I was gone for a day and a half, searching the edges of the town, crawling through the spindly trees and bushes till I finally found what I was seeking. I clutched the small, quivering furry creature in my arms as I made my way home.

I told Josephine how to prepare it, and what to save. She gave me a puzzled look; obviously surprised and curious at my strange behavior.

After a small feast of rabbit stew, I waited till I was alone with Seamus. We were outside; it had taken a few hours to finish making what I'd captured the rabbit for, but when I presented Seamus with it, he stared blankly.

"What is it?"

"A rabbit's foot, of course! You may not have noticed but our Irish luck doesn't seem to be enough. Sometimes it needs a little help. And there ain't nothing luckier than a rabbit's foot," Staring at it curiously he accepted the gift and held it in his hand for a moment, finally turning to smile at me.

"Thanks Dad; I just hope it's as lucky as you say it is..." It was then that I told him, haltingly, about how, though I'd never been a believer, as he knew, I couldn't help but wonder if there was such a thing as some other wordly force, since he'd come back to us just like a miracle. He looked doubtful, but agreed that it was something to think about.

It was five months before they came looking for him. We never told either Brendan or Caitlin what Seamus had told us, and I have no idea whether he told them or not.

The day was cold and clear; Seamus had come back to us in the summer of his sixteenth birthday. It was now winter but as of yet there was no snow. The day started out as it normally did. After breakfast and an hour or so spent chatting and going over what had to be done that day, Brendan, Caitlin and Seamus decided to go back to their old haunts.

"Stay away from the junkyard," Josephine said worriedly. The boys laughed;

"Don't worry Mom, there's more than one of those around here. And we know which one to stay away from." She smiled and waved them out the door, turning back to me, face shining.

"I still can't believe it Evan...it's been months but I'm still afraid.."

"I know," I said softly, coming over to kiss her mouth, eyes lingering on hers. "It's like our lives were taken away, and then given back just as suddenly." She laughed suddenly, a sound that was music to my ears.

"I'm sorry, it's just that, after all these years, you still sound as strange as the day I first met you. Your accent I mean." She lay her head on my shoulder and sighed.

"That day seems so long ago I can hardly remember it."

"I haven't forgotten; I think you left a scar where you kicked me." She laughed again, lifting my shirt to brush her hands over my stomach.

"You're lying; I never kicked you that hard." She said teasingly, eyes sparkling as they had done before, so long ago.

"No, of course not. You always healed better than you injured."

Her eyes met mine and she wrapped her arms around my shoulders. "I'll take that as a compliment,"

"It was meant as one." I replied, my own arms going around her waist. She leaned up to kiss me and the movement caught me off guard; I lost my balance and we fell to the floor in a heap of laughter, suddenly blessing every single breath that filled our lungs; we were alive again; never had I felt such happiness...

We must have evantually fallen asleep; the day was warm and sunlight filtered through the many cracks in the wall, filling the room with drowsy sunshine. The peaceful atmosphere was shattered abruptly by the sounds of shouting and yelling. I sat up quickly and felt Josephine do the same beside me. Another shout and our eyes widened as we turned to stare at each other.

"Seamus!" We said at the exact same time. I scrambled to my feet and was out the door so fast that I left Josephine behind. My heart leapt to my throat; four Nietzscheans surrounded my son; two were trying to catch his arms and hold him still, another moved in with what looked like handcuffs. I suppose it was a good thing none of them carried guns, I did not bother to look at their weapons, for otherwise as I rushed in among them they would easily have gunned me down.

"Dad no!" Somewhere in the back of my mind I heard Seamus yell as I took out my only weapon, a knife, similar to the one I'd had when Seamus had come back. Only one Nietzschean moved to intercept me; they underestimated my abilities. I stabbed the Uber in the chest and moved to the other three, so quickly that they didn't have time to blink. I knew I couldn't hold them off forever, but that wasn't the point. In a few minutes I had cleared the Nietzscheans from around my son.

"Get out of here, get your mother!" I yelled to him; he stared at me with wide eyes. A Nietzschean slammed the back of their arm from behind me and I felt bone blades cutting into my back. That startled Seamus enough that he scrambled to his feet, ducked from one of the Nietzscheans, and raced to the house. Someone screamed; it sounded like Caitlin, but I was busy trying to fend off the four long enough to escape. I'd draw them off before disappearing into the shadows; at least, that was my plan.

But either I was getting old, or I had overestimated my abilities. A blow sent me crashing to my knees and a kick threw me reeling over the ground. More shouting; more screaming, but the Nietzscheans, all four of them, hovered over me, sending an array of kicks and punchs -and I laughed. I laughed because they were doing exactly what I wanted them to do, without even knowing it. Stupid Ubers; they would never understand risking one's life to save another, except for perhaps their children. But they probably didn't realize I was Seamus' father, and that I was prepared -no, _ready_,- to risk everything for his sake. I had let them take him from me once; it would not happen again.

At last one of them gripped me by the hair to lift me to my knees; blood ran down my face but I struggled to open my eyes. From the doorway of our house I saw Josephine, staring at me. I wanted to shout at her to run; to take the children and leave quickly. But it dawned on me that she was waiting; for what I don't know. One of the Nietzscheans cursed.

"He's getting away! And those other two brats! Go after them!" I wanted to smile, but my face was too crusted in blood to move any muscles. All that I could think was two things: That I had beaten them, for my children were escaping with their lives, and that Josephine -my Rose- looked so beautiful standing there, with the sun setting in the sky and casting rays of lavendar and light blue over her form. Despite the distance between us, our eyes met and held. I smiled, feeling laughter once again escape from me -this time it was joyful laughter, rather than triumphal laughter. The Nietzscheans holding me said something but I didn't hear; I was too busy staring at my wife; the love that had made my entire life worthwhile. I wanted to say thank you, or at least, I love you, but the words wouldn't form.

I saw one of the Nietzschean's move their hand. Metal glinted in the fading sunlight; a sharp edge was brought to my throat -their arm moved, I gasped for breath, felt the taste of blood instead-

And suddenly I wasn't sitting in a grimy street surrounded by Nietzscheans and covered in my own blood. I was in Dunwich, but I was flying over it; and there was Josephine, as she had been sixteen years ago; a baby held in her arms; there was everyone else, Orla, Liam, Lughna, Devin, Siobhan and Declan laughing and chasing each other. And then we weren't in Dunwich; all of us were in Ireland...or some place that looked like Ireland...

Wherever I was, I knew I had come home.

)(

One day I'll fly away

Leave all this to yesterday

Why live life from Dream to dream...

And dread the day

When dreaming ends?

One day I'll fly away Fly, fly away

I stood there, in the doorway of our home, and watched as his life blood spilled over the street. Tears escaped my eyes, but they were ones of joy. Evan, my love, was free. Free in a way that none of us had ever been. I clutched my arms and shuddered; he was gone. I was alone, just as I'd always feared I would be. But at least Seamus was safe; his coming back had proved that I was right about his destiny; why, the very night before I had dreamed again.

A strange dream, but a peaceful one. I was held in someone arms; it was the shining light that had once needed to know which was stronger, the Earth or the Sun. The voice told me that it had its answer now; I could rest. I had replied that I was glad, for I was tired, and then in the dream my eyes had closed and I had sunk back into the warmth of the light.

But for once, I think I understood what the dream had meant. Today was the day I would die. The thought came to me rather simply; Evan was dead, and I could not live without Evan. Just as I had not been able to live without Seamus. I did not have the strength or the will to move on without Evan. How could my life be bearable without him?

My eyes, fixated on the corpse of my husband laying in a pool of blood on the street, did not see the Nietzscheans come towards me until they blocked my view.

"Tell us where the boy is!" The one in front pushed me roughly with his hand, shoving me inside the house. I looked up at them, feeling as though I were in a trance. Their words meant nothing to me.

I turned my head to look around the small room; then to the kitchen; and to the stairs, picturing the rooms above us. So much life this building had, though it be patched and barely still standing after that fire a few years back This place held the story of my life; of the lives of my family. Here, and one other place. A patch of ruined ground in the small town of Dunwich. I was too old to start all over again. I finally turned back to the Nietzscheans.

"Someday you will find that your power over us has vanished. For humans, Homo Sapiens -sans _victus_- were created by the Earth itself. You are nothing but an experiment gone horribly wrong!" I spit the words at them bitterly. And I knew they were true. And I think, deep, deep down, the Nietzscheans knew it as well. They snarled and one knocked me to the ground; I felt blood trickle from my mouth. Suddenly I knew why Evan had laughed so before they killed him; death was their greatest threat; what they did not realize was that Death was _our_ final escape!

I rose to my feet and flung myself at them; I would not let them torture me for information. Nor would they take me as a slave. _I_ had control over my life; not them. They just did not realize that yet.

I was hitting the one standing in front of me with all my might; I kicked at the others; I scratched one of them enough to break the skin. Finally they seemed to have had enough. As I turned to try and punch another one, I saw his arm stretch out -and then I felt him pull a blade out from me. I looked down in not a little disbelief; blood was pouring from my stomach. I fell to my knees without realizing it.

"Come on, we have to find those brats," One of them snarled. They left; they even had the curtesy to shut the door behind them. I was alone in the house, slumped on the wooden floor; eyes filled with tears of pain. The blood dripped from my body to the floor and I wondered how long it would take. The sunlight was blinding; I was on my back, wondering when I had fallen. One hand, blood soaked, rested over the wound. The light was growing brighter and brighter; finally I had to close my eyes, because I could not stand it. But the light remained, even though I was sure my eyes were closed.

The pain began to slide away; I was sure Seamus and Brendan and Caitlin would be fine; I was sure they'd be able to take care of each other. I had done all I could for them.

I was so tired now; my body was heavy and weighing me down. I took one last breath...and thought my last thought....

_I am glad... for everything._

Author's Note:

Must...not...cry....breaks down

Ok, all better now sniffle I don't really have much to say, except....Epilogue: (in third person, to cover Seamus' last four years on earth) Yay or Nay? I already have one planned out (sort of) but I also understand that there can be too much of a good thing. So let me know what I should do.

Thank you so much, everyone who's read this, (Whether you reviewed or not, though especially if you did) this story meant a lot to me, and so did the characters. I hope the coming season of Andromeda will shed a little more light on Seamus' parents; of all the original characters, I think we know the least about his parents and their life. Anyway, as I said before, Thank You

-Luna Sealeaf


	20. Epilogue

****

Earth's Children

Author: Luna Sealeaf

Summary: Harpers' parents tell their tale of life and love in Post-Commonwealth Earth

Rating: PG-13 (Maybe R for a few graphic(violent) images or dark themes)

Disclaimer: No, I do not own the universe of Andromeda, nor do I own characters such as Harper or Brendan (obviously) I made up the characters of Josephine and Evan...blah blah blah..etc, you get it. Please don't copy my story (at least not without letting me know first) and please don't sue.

Epilogue

The First Year

The night breeze was cold. Fallen leaves were swept along the ground. The pale light of the moon fell across a small figure who knelt on the ground, shoulders slumped and head bowed. Behind him stood two other small shadowed forms. One of the forms stood directly behind the kneeling figure, a hand resting on one of the hunched shoulders.

"Come on Shay, we have to bury the bodies," Silence; the words were absorbed into the night and became part of its dark embrace.

Then, a small, broken voice spoke: "They should be cremated -that's what they would have wanted."

The standing figure shook its head, though the person to whom he spoke could not see. "It would attract too much attention Shay, I'm sorry. We'll have to bury them." Again the words were left to the dark night. It was not until the third figure walked forward, fell to her knees behind the kneeling boy, and buried her tearfilled face into his back, that he moved.

"It'll take all night. Let's go." He was quiet once more as he stood to his feet, leaving the girl on her knees, crying, alone.

It did take all night; together Seamus Harper and his cousin, Brendan Lahey, dragged the heavy corpses of Evan and Josephine Harper to a grave behind their home. They were watched by Brendan's little sister, Caitlin, who wrapped her arms around herself and slowly rocked on her feet, saying nothing.

At last they were finished; the three of them stood over the grave. Although the boys had done their best, it was difficult to dig a grave with no light and no shovels. It was not quite wide enough for two bodies, so Josephine had been draped slightly over her husband, Evan. Seamus stared down at his parents with an undreadable expression on his face. Beside him Brendan and Caitlin quietly wept. Never had any of them felt so alone.

"Damn Uber bastards..." Brendan's voice shook as he spoke. He glanced over at Seamus. "At least they won, in the end. The Nietzscheans didn't take them as slaves. They failed, and your parents won."

"They died because they were stupid Brendan." The words were cold and cut the night sharper than the wind could. "They could have escaped, they could still be alive. Instead they threw their lives away."

Brendan wanted to protest, but he sensed his cousin's agony was still too fresh.

"I won't be like them. I won't end up like that. I've had enough. Earth's gone to hell; if I ever get the opportunity, I'm out of here." Brendan still said nothing; he knew of no words that could comfort his cousin and best friend. And he was confident that the words were only said out of anger and grief. Seamus moved suddenly; pulled his arm back as if to throw somehting. Metal glinted in the moonlight; something landed in the grave with a soft thud. Seamus turned abruptly and went to go back inside the house.

Caitlin crept forward to peer into the graves but Brendan held her back. The grave wasn't very deep and he was able to -carefully- lean forward and find what Seamus had thrown, trying to ignore the feel of his dead aunt and uncle. His hands grasped a thin and long metal object. He pulled it out and stepped away from the grave. In his hands he held the tin whistle that his uncle had given his cousin on Seamus' fourteenth birthday.

"Here, keep this for me." Brendan handed the instrument to Caitlin, who held it reverently. Other than a small furry object, it was the only legacy that Seamus' parents had left behind for their only son.

The next morning the three of them packed what few belongings they had and left. There was nothing left for them in the house. Nothing except painful memories. Seamus suggested burning it but Brendan once again refused his suggestion.

"Maybe someday, someone will make a home out of it again." He stared up at the darkened building and hoped that what he said was true. Seamus only shrugged, took Caitlin by the hand, and started walking. After a moment Brendan turned and followed them.

Having nowhere else to go, the three ended up in the tunnels under Boston. There were plenty of places to stay down there. The tunnels went everywhere in the city and there were hundreds of empty rooms. No one really knew when or why the tunnels had been built -but even fewer cared.

The three claimed one of the rooms near the landing dock. At night they could hear the distant rumble of ships taking off and landing. Sometimes they talked about where they would go if they ever went into space. But mostly they slept; huddled together for warmth like newborn pups; when they were awake they searched for food. It was a meaningless existence, and did not suit either Seamus or Brendan.

Finally they resumed their old trade. Together they scavenged around junkyards, hiding from any Nietzscheans that happened to be nearby, and collected parts and broken items. Seamus and Caitlin would fix them, Brendan would find people to buy them. With the money they earned they could buy food and sometimes clothing at the Market, which was also located underground. Thanks mostly to Caitlin, the room they'd adopted began to feel like a new home as their belongings grew and their lives developed some semblance of order.

But it was not always easy to find buyers. The black market was a tricky thing and many nights none of them had anything to eat. Caitlin grew pale and thin, and soon she stayed in the small room and rested while the boys went out looking for parts. They would also search for food anyway they could get it. Stealing, buying, mugging, it was all the same to them. There was only one rule they lived by: survival.

The Second Year

None of them really kept track of the days. Seamus would scratch a mark on the wall each morning (except for when he forgot to, or was too tired) just so that they had some idea of how much time was passing. On the first year anniversary of his parents' death, Seamus was doing his best not to think about them.

He and Brendan were meeting a contact of theirs who claimed he could help them. It was a person who regularly bought their repaired items from Brendan, and he apparently had many connections with some of the most powerful human gangs in Boston. When the man arrived, the three of them talked for awhile, and a few hours later Brendan and Seamus were accepted as members. Their jobs would be simple ones; mostly running errands and such, but they would be rewarded handsomely for them.

The two walked back jubilantly, Seamus talking faster and smiling more than Brendan had seen him in a long time. They didn't bother trying to explain what had happened to Caitlin; she was simply happy that they were happy. It had been a year since any of them could claim to be glad about anything.

For a short blessed while, one beautiful day succeeded another. Every afternoon Brendan or Seamus, sometimes both, would got to an arranged meeting place where they were given instructions and goods to transport. These missions were often dangerous; neither boy was allowed to leave the delivery place until they had been paid. Should a customer not have the money and not want to give the desired item up, they could easily have Seamus or Brendan killed.

And this left Caitlin alone much of the time as well. While the boys were out at their 'job' she would scour the area for food. Several times she tried to follow her brother and cousin but they were always insistent that she remain back in the small room that they had claimed. Only on easy jobs did the boys let her come. Seamus' favorite errands were when he had to deliver a part or a message to the docking bay. Getting to look at the spaceships was the highlight of his month. He'd always take Caitlin with him, jabbering the whole way about where he wanted to go and what he wanted to see most of all when he left Earth.

"I want to see a real Ocean most of all..you know they say that some places the water is so clear you can actually see through it? Pretty amazing, huh? Oh, and I want to hear the music Spacers listen to. I bet it's really strange. Do you think the lyrics are in different languages?"

Were common one-sided conversations between Seamus and his younger cousin. She would smile at him whenever he looked at her, and never hurry him once the errand had been accomplished. She would stand next to him as he leaned, arms folded, against the gate to stare wistfully at the ships until the sun set.

"Don't worry Caitlin, when I leave, I'll take you and Brendan with me, I promise." Seamus whispered quietly one evening. Caitlin, as usual, didn't appear to understand anything he said. But she did smile at him happily when he turned to look at her.

Together they celebrated holidays and birthdays. Food was easy to share among the three of them. Both Brendan and Seamus would give up as much food as they could to Caitlin, who accepted their generosity complacently. Then Brendan would try and insist that Seamus take the extra food, and Seamus would insist that Brendan should have it.

They did not have many friends outside their family. It was never easy to tell whom one could trust. And it was dangerous to get too attached to someone; it was more than likely that they would be dead the next time you saw them -if you ever saw them again.

And then one day their circle was broken.

On an early afterrnoon, in the beginning of summer, Brendan and Seamus found a note stuck in the usual spot, giving instructions to meet at the residence of the Boss. The only other information given was to explain that an important exchange was to take place, and that as many members as possible were wanted -for appearences mostly, since the exchange was to be done with a rival gang.

Telling Caitlin to wait underground for them, and trying to tell her why they had to leave in the middle of the night, they left her in the circular doorway, looking hurt and confused. Neither looked back as they hurried off to the empty building. Every dark shape they passed seemed like a member of the enemy gang, ready to ambush them and break off the deal. Seamus walked faster and told Brendan to hurry up. They both wanted to go, stay for as little time as possible, and then return to Caitlin and their little home.

The room was large, but dark and crowded. Several candles and torches were lit, giving the place an eerie atmosphere. Seamus and Brendan stood near the back, shoulders hunched and faces lowered.

"Harper! Lahey! Up front." Barked one of the members, once they'd recognized the two boys. Uneasy, they exchanged glances and moved further up into the crowd.

The talks went on for a couple of hours -neither Seamus nor Brendan were really sure what was going on or what was being exchanged. Finally it seemed to be over. Just as the two were turning around shouts were heard, then gunfire. Spinning around to see what was going on; Seamus watched as a number of armed Nietzscheans burst into the sight with a sinking heart. Apparently whatever it was they were doing, the Nietzscheans considered it illegal. Seamus wasn't given any longer to stare as Brendan grabbed his arm and started pulling him towards the door.

Someone reached out and gripped Seamus' other shoulder. He tried to shrug it off but it gripped harder so he glanced behind...and stopped dead in his tracks.

"Caitlin!" he shouted, escaping Brendan's grasp to take Caitlin's hands. She was crying, apparently lost and confused. Behind him Seamus heard Brendan ask,

"Why'd she follow us?"

The gangs were fighting back now; gunfire roared in their ears and hit off the wall. Just as Seamus pushed his way to Caitlin, leaning forward to grip her hand, her dark fearful eyes widened suddenly and she gave a sharp gasp.

"Seamus!" Her voice was hoarse as she fell forward. Seamus was at her side instantly, trying to pull her to her feet. Shots had torn through her entire abdomen, and blood was coming from her mouth. That was all Seamus could see in such little light. It was all he needed to see.

"Caitlin NO! Brendan, come on -help me!" Together the two boys were able to pick up her limp body. Her hair was flecked with blood, either her own or from someone who'd been shot near her. Although they didn't notice it, Brendan and Seamus were covered in sprays of blood too. The large room, once having been a warehouse holding food, had become the site of a massacre.

Caitlin's head leaned against Seamus shoulder, Brendan walking right next to him to hold her legs.

"Hold on Caitlin," Brendan was repeating over and over, frantically. Caitlin was staring up at Seamus; she gave a small smile.

"Seamus..." It was the first -and only- coherent word he had ever heard her say.

Her eyes didn't close. But as he looked down at them, Seamus finally realized that the light of life within her had died. She suddenly became heavier, though this could have been their imaginations, and neither boy had the strength to carry her any farther. An air of defeat fell over them as first Brendan, then Seamus, slowly sank to the wet ground. Both of them were silent; Seamus clutching Caitlin to him, Brendan leaning forward into the street to stare with unseeing eyes. Caitlin had celebrated her fifteenth birthday a few months earlier, but she had always seemed so much older than her physical age.

They were at least able to give her a decent burning; the next moring they recovered their strength and took her down towards the ocean. The land wasn't flat enough to do it right by the water, but they got as close as they could before starting the pyre. Brendan tried to say a few words but Seamus was silent as he stared at the flickering flames. When the fire had finally burned down, and there was nothing left but ashes, Brendan suggested, in a quavering voice, that they try and scatter them.

Seamus didn't answer him. He sank to his knees and leaned forward. Both were too young to clearly remember the deaths of their aunts Lughna and Orla. Neither were sure how to conduct a proper funeral. And Seamus could not remember ever seeing the ashes of a loved one's body. His thoughts were scattered as he bent forward, hands slowly sinking into the pile of ashes and dust. Hands covered in the remains of his beautiful dead cousin, he brought them to his face, not sure what he was doing or why.

"Seamus...?" Brendan asked in a worried face, tentatively laying a hand on his cousin's shoulder. Seamus didn't feel the hand. He was in a world of his own, far from where the two of them were standing. Bringing his hands down from his face to look at the gray smear, and leaving ashes in the form of hands on his face, he wondered, for the first time, what it was like to die.

"Shay..." Brendan's grip tightened until at last Seamus nodded.

"I'm ok Brendan." It wasn't a complete lie. Together they scattered the rest of the ashes, the breeze blowing them around in swirls, up to the sky. Then Seamus went down to the ocean, alone, to clean off the ashes that had covered him. And silently, the two returned to the small home where they had known happiness for a very brief time.

The Third Year

From then on Seamus and Brendan spent their days wandering. The gang had not been totally destroyed that night, so they still had jobs and errands they could run, but usually they only did so when they had no money and no food. Occasionally they met up with other people, either fellow gangmembers, or just acquaintances for a night. The latter often taking the form of attractive young women.

But slowly, as the months went by, they began to recover. Seamus began joking again, Brendan started making other friends (something he was much better at than Seamus) and they also started going back to junkyards and selling parts on the black market. Both preferred to stay above ground; it was usually less crowded nowadays. Only during Magog attacks did they take cover in the tunnels under the city.

Sometimes at night, when they were lying under the stars, either in the overcrowded downtown area of the ghetto or at the edges, Seamus would take out the rabbit foot his father had given him and stare at it. He would try not let memories of his parents haunt him, often distracting himself from memories by asking his cousin,

"Brendan, do you believe in God?" and waiting for a reply. On the other side of him, Brendan rolled over on to his stomach to look at his cousin.

"I don't know. I guess it's nice to think someone exists out there."

"Well it seems pointless to me." Seamus said firmly. He stuffed the rabbit's foot away and pretended to go back to sleep.

They spent the rest of that year dodging Nietzschean patrols, stealing once in awhile and avoiding other thieves, several times they were attacked while walking through the streets at night. But they survived. They made friends; some who stayed, others who quickly faded back out of their lives.

The two of them were growing into men, and it was not an easy transition. They started fighting and arguing more. Neither could take the other's authority, and working as a team was becoming difficult. It seemed inevitable that the day would finally come when they would part -for a time, at least.

Later, they wouldn't be able to remember what the fight had started over. It soon escalated however, until both were shouting loudly.

"It makes more sense to do this my way! Besides I'm older than you Seamus" Brendan was yelling.

"Yeah? Well I'm smarter!" Seamus retorted. Their faces were red and they might even have come to blows if Brendan had not suddenly gone cold.

"Fine. If you're so smart, you obviously don't need me. Hope your brains are good company cuzo." And he turned, fists clentched as he stalked off down the street.

"I don't need you! And I'm ten times better company than you ever were!" Seamus yelled after him.

And the two cousins parted; each disappearing into the crowd. Each wandering the streets until, when their tempers finally cooled and they wished to go to the other in order to take back the heated words, they could not find one another. Both Brendan and Seamus searched the city all night. Both finally gave up as exhaustion took over. Neither had realized the Human Ghetto was so big, and although they asked other people if they knew or had heard of their cousin, the two almost-brothers remained seperated for many more months.

The Fourth Year

Seamus was almost twenty years old when she came. It had become his lonely custom to visit the docking bay each morning and each night. The entire port was huge of course, so he visited a different spot each time. On the rare occassion that a Spacer looked at him curiously, he ignored them. Unless they asked for directions, in case they paid him for help, but that almost never happened.

He knew she was different the moment he saw her. He was in the southeast part of the port that day, right next to one of the gates, and was just about to go find somewhere to sleep when a small dingy ship slowly entered. The door opened and a Drago-Kazov approached to talk with the pilot. Seamus supposed the pilot paid the required money for docking, since the Nietzschean quickly walked away. But the Uber turned around to sneer, which alone caught Seamus' attention. Nietzscheans never gave Spacers a second glance.

And then Seamus realized why the Nietzschean had reacted as he did. The pilot came around to the other side of the ship, just yards away from where Seamus was standing. His jaw dropped open at the sight of her.

For one thing, she was a woman. But she was no normal Spacer woman. No strange colored or strangely styled hair; no metal objects on her face -and her clothes! Most visitors to earth were covered in almost as much dirt as the natives, and their clothes varied from bland and boring to wild and colorful. He was not sure which hers were.

They were not normal clothing; she wore a long white robe, the hood pulled up, and an orange vest-like garment that was as long as her dress and clasped in the middle. Slung over one arm was a satchel, and she carried a suitcase in the other hand. Staring at her Seamus could make out brown hair, despite the hood, and light colored eyes, as well as a fairly pale complexion.

Then she spied Seamus and smiled. He couldn't move; even as she walked over to him, he couldn't move. He didn't know what to make of her -he wasn't even entirely sure she was human.

"Hello Brother," She was talking to him! Seamus stepped away from the fence with a jolt, eyes wide with shock. The woman gave a gentle laugh; it was like bells, or rather, since Seamus had never head a bell before, similar to the tin whistle his father had given him. And she spoke funny; a strange accent, which again brought his father to his mind.

"I'm not your brother," were the first stupid words out of his mouth. He cursed his clumsy words as she laughed again; but it was not a mean laugh, she seemed genuinely happy about something.

"No no, of course you are not my blood brother. But you're a fellow Child of the Divine, and therefore my brother in spirit."

Now Seamus was more confused than ever.

"Who are you?" He asked in disbelief. The woman smiled and extended her hand; she suddenly looked younger than Seamus had first thought. There was an agelessness about her though; he would have believed it if someone told him she was a hundred years old.

"I am called Renella Truth-Keeper. You may call me simply Renella. And who are you, Brother?" Renella...he tried saying the name in his mind. It was pretty; he liked it.

"Seamus Zelazny Harper." He replied without thinking as he stared at her hand curiously. Renella stepped closer to the fence and reached through it, taking Seamus' right hand before he could think to move away. She clasped his hand in hers and shook it slowly before releasing it.

"I am glad to meet you Seamus Zelazny Harper." She said the words solemnly, eyes holding his in a steady gaze. From that moment on Seamus was entranced by her. She asked for his help carrying bags and he agreed. On her ship were many more crates and boxes filled with many different supplies. Lots of different supplies.

"What are these for?" Seamus asked curiously.

"They are for you." Seeing his disbelieving look, Renella smiled and added, "for you and many others, I hope. They are for whomever needs them. I am setting up a missionary."

"A what?" Seamus followed her with the last box as they set her supplies outside the gate.

"A missionary. I am a Wayist you see, and I have come to help the people here and to offer them the comfort of our Faith."

"What the hell is a Wayist?" Seamus blurted out after a moment when she showed no signs of explaining further. Renella nearly dropped the bag she was carrying as she looked at him.

"Have you not heard of the Way? But it was founded upon this very Earth, you know! The Anointed was shown The Way on one of the continents here."

As she spoke Seamus shook his head.

"Sorry, I've never heard of it. Maybe others have though." Renella only nodded absently, looking a little sad. Seamus didn't like her looking like that.

"I'd like to learn about it, and other people probably will too." Perhaps sensing that he was trying to cheer her up, Renella gave him bright smile.

"Of course. I am here to teach after all. Now then, where shall I live?" She turned to Seamus. "May I ask for your help Seamus Zelazny Harper?"

"Most people call me Harper...but you can call me Seamus. And sure, I'll help you."

"You have my thanks." She inclined her head toward him. Seamus helped her search the nearby area (She didn't want a place too far from her ship) they at last found a small, one story building that was mostly intact and had several small rooms inside.

"This will do nicely. Thank you so much for your help Seamus." Not wanting to leave for some reason, he offered to help her set her things up inside, an offer she gladly accepted. They spent the rest of the night unpacking, and Renella even prepared a small meal. It was better food than Seamus had eaten in months but he did his best to eat slowly, like she was doing.

"How long do you plan on staying?" Seamus asked curiously before taking another sip of the hot stew.

"I'm not sure. For awhile; a few months at the least. Every few weeks I imagine I shall have to leave to gather fresh supplies, but I shall come back." They fell silent as they concentrated on the food. At last Seamus stood up and told her he had to go home.

"Where do you live Bro -Seamus?" She smiled lightly at her near slip of his name. He grinned back at her, then realized she had asked a question.

"Oh, um, nearby..."

"Well, you have my thanks Seamus. You have made me feel welcome on this strange planet. I hope you will visit me sometime."

"Sure! Can I come by tomorrow?" He asked as he stepped out the door.

"Of course, and bring any friends or family you have." She closed the door as he waved, her laughter lingering in the air. And her scent. It made Seamus realize how badly he smelled. Suddenly he very much wanted a bath. Renella was all he thought about for the next few hours as he searched for a place to call home.

For the next ten days Seamus spent every moment with Renella. He, having no friends and no idea where Brendan was, did not bring anyone to meet her. In fact, he was almost afraid to introduce her to anyone...he felt a strange possessiveness about her. She was so foreign and strange and nice. And he didn't want to share her with anyone else.

But Renella didn't need him to meet other people. Every day, Seamus trailing along beside her, she would go among the houses, introducing herself to people and offering them any help she could give. When Seamus told her about the tunnels she even began going underground to talk with other people.

At first most people ignored her, thinking she was insane. But slowly, as a month and then two went by, people began to know her. Mothers sent their children to spend the day with her while they searched for food or attended a job. Renella loved the children; she'd spend hours telling them stories and teaching them about the Way. And they loved her because she never scolded, always played, and gave them food, and sometimes even new clothes.

And slowly Seamus began to love her too. He had never known anyone like her, and he was sure that he'd never meet another person like her. She saw beauty in the strangest things. Once, while on a walk, she had picked up a dead leaf and said in a reverant breath,

"Seamus look at it! Aren't the colors lovely?" He had stared at her, wondering if she was joking.

"It's just a leaf Renella. And it's dead."

"So? There is beauty in death Seamus." He had laughed bitterly, shaking his head.

"Not that I've seen there isn't." Renella had sighed and let the leaf fall slowly to the ground, folding her hands into the long sleeves of her robe.

"You may not believe it yet Seamus, but the Divine loves all of us. No matter what you do, no matter what you've seen or thought or felt, the Divine loves you. And when the Divine's love is greatest, It takes us into Its embrace to give us peace and rest..."

Seamus hadn't wanted to say anything, afraid that he'd offend her and make her angry, but he found her words laughable. She wouldn't speak so if she had ever lost someone the way he had. But the more time he spent around her, the less time he could spend away from her. She made him forget his past; she was so different from everything he'd ever known. Until he had met her, his life had been utterly boring. He had once asked her about her past -about her family. It was night time and she had been busy helping people with sickness all day. The lines under her eyes had not been there three months ago.

"I suppose you mean the family to which I was born." He nodded wordlessly. "I never met them. They died when I was a baby. I'm told I was the youngest of three children; I had two older brothers. A plague struck the village where my family lived and Wayists had come to give aid. They found me in the small house and took me back to the Monastery, which is where I grew up. But I have many family members, both at the Monastery, and everywhere I go. Wayists are never alone."

"My family's all dead -well, except for my cousin Brendan, I'm not sure where he is. We got separated awhile ago." Seamus said quietly, thinking over her words. To never be alone...that was a big promise to make someone. Renella was looking at Seamus with a strange expression on her face.

"How old are you Seamus?" He was taken aback and had to think for a moment before he could answer.

"Twenty, or around there I guess." Now she looked surprised.

"I thought you were younger...I mean, your eyes are old, but at first you seem young." She seemed to be talking more to herself than to him. Seamus felt more than a little offended, and slowly got to his feet.

"I see...I guess I must seem like a little child to you..." the words were said quietly and Renella looked concerned as she stood up as well.

"Not at all Seamus! I myself am only nineteen. Please, I did not mean to anger you!" She took his hand into her own, a pleading look on her face. And Seamus could stand it no longer. He leaned forward and kissed her. Renella almost jerked back but didn't. To his amazement she returned the kiss, gripping his hand gently.

"I'm so sorry Seamus," She said after breaking the kiss to stare into his eyes. And he got the feeling that she was apologizing for much more than the simple miscalculation of his age. Her arms went around him to fold him into an embrace and Seamus felt tears fill his eyes.

They spent the night together, as well as the next, but Seamus did not start living with her. It felt wrong somehow. He would leave for a few hours and then return in the afternoon to spend the rest of the day with her. Renella did not change her schedule in order to be with him, but she was always happy when he arrived to visit, and allowed him to stay with her wherever she went. Seamus liked it best when they were alone; which was the case most of the time when she went on her random walks to help people. She'd pick an alleyway off the top of her head, gather a basket of food and medicine, and start walking. Whenever she saw someone in need she would stop and give them gifts of what charity she could offer, as well as a Blessing.

And, Seamus found out, she did not discriminate among those she helped. A poor boy who looked to be half human and half Nietzschean, whom most would spit at or look on with pity, she stopped to speak a few words and give comfort. A disfigured woman huddled against a shadowed wall, it did not seem to matter to her. When Seamus advised her to stay away from a person, a raving young man, because people like him could be dangerous, she ignored his words and marched right up to the man.

"Don't be ignorant Seamus. They can't help who they are; you shouldn't hold it against them." and she handed the man food and a blanket; he thanked her many times, his strange slurred speech repelling Seamus, but sounding like music to Renella for all that she noticed it.

"How do you do it?" He asked her once, during one of their nights together. She lay in his arms and smiled as she looked up at him.

"Do what?"

"How are you so -so accepting? So kind and forgiving?" He was leaning on his elbow to look down at her, eyes wide with admiration. She reached up a hand to stroke his cheek.

"It's not so hard as that Seamus. I simply do for others what I hope others will do for me. It's simply my duty to spread the love of the Divine. Anyone can be like that." Seamus shook his head in contradiction.

"I don't think I could ever be that good." Her eyes were filled with amusement as she studied him.

"You could be, you are more gentle than you know, I think. You have a good soul." Embarrassed by such talk, he'd shrugged and changed the subject.

More months passed by, and the day came when Renella told him she had to go away for awhile, to gather more supplies, and perhaps bring more missionaries over to help. He saw her off, watching her ship until it finally disappeared out of the atmosphere, and went to live a dejected existence until she returned.

He did not waste the time though. Resuming the search for his cousin, which he'd somewhat neglected over Renella's arrival, he was overjoyed when at last someone was able to give him directions to the last place he'd seen Brendan Lahey.

For once in his life, luck was with Seamus. The two cousins were quickly reunited and were more than joyous at seeing each other. Brendan explained that he'd been looking for his cousin, but in the meantime had gone up several ranks in the gang. Seamus had almost completely forgotten about his former job and told Brendan all about Renella, his new love.

Brendan was more than happy for Seamus. Both their parents had always told them the importance of getting married, and as young as possible. Brendan returned with Seamus to their new neighborhood, and the time until Renella could be expected to return passed by much faster.

Finally the day came when Seamus could welcome her back, and introduce her to his only surviving family member. Brendan took to Renella immediately, and later told Seamus that he thought they'd make a wonderful couple. It was the happiest time in Seamus' life since the death of his parents.

Never had his life been filled with such a feeling of purpose. Although still doing odd jobs for the black markets and the gangs, Seamus spent much more of his time helping Renella with her Missionary work, though he still didn't quite believe in the whole Wayism deal. He helped Renella administer medicine and food when plague and famine ran rampant. After Magog attacks they searched for survivors. Helping others -it was something that most people on Earth, and especially in Boston, had given up on.

The day came when Seamus could not contain the feelings his heart contained. After spending the day with Renella and helping watch after a group of children, and after their usual meal, he asked her quietly,

"Renella, will you marry me?" He was frozen as he watched her, holding his breath until she gave an answer. Renella had suddenly stopped moving as well, and her eyes would not meet Seamus'.

"Oh dear..." and he knew what her answer would be.

"Oh Seamus, I'm so sorry, I never meant to mislead you..." Her voice was quiet and filled with compassion. Seamus didn't want to hear it; he stood up.

"It's ok, I'm sorry, I was just kidding around-" Renella must not have believed him, for she leaned across the table to grasp his arm and keep him from going.

"Please Seamus, let me explain!" She held him until at last he looked up at her, eyes shining with unshed tears, as were her own.

"I have too much love to give simply to one person. Although I am not a celibate priestess, I vowed long ago never to marry. My heart belongs to so many...I don't know if I can make you understand. I do love you Seamus..." her voice grew soft and her grip on him loosened.

"It's alright Renella, I understand." But he didn't, not really. If she loved him, he wondered, why couldn't she marry him? She hardly had to stop loving other people. He was hurt by her rejection -a decision that, years later, Renella would sometimes come to regret.

He still visited her, but not as often. Most of his days he spent with Brendan, trying to occupy his mind with building things. Many years ago, humans who got depressed often would eat to feel better, or form other such unhealthy habits to take their mind off their true problems. In Seamus' day and age, food was too scarce to eat constantly. And he couldn't pay for drugs; alcohol was one option, but it took awhile for him to get drunk enough to leave his memories -and Renella- behind.

So he turned to talking. Brendan was a good listener, and the two would often have long conversations. But even when he was alone Seamus would talk to himself. If he was talking he wasn't thinking, and if he wasn't thinking, then memories of lost people could not haunt him. It was a good escape -most of the time. Throughout his life, the habit would get him into trouble more than once, sometimes more seriously than others.

But Seamus didn't have long to get over Renella. A month and a half after his rejected proposal, just after his twentieth birthday, he and Brendan would be wandering around the dock waiting for a black market contact of theirs when they were approached by a tall and thickset man.

Both were immediately on their guard, looking the man up and down. The man sneered at the two of them and the look he gave them was similar to the look most humans would have given to a diseased cockroach.

"You two mudfoots know anything about the Nietzschean facilities around here?" The man was a spacer, obviously, but most of them weren't so blunt when they wanted information. Seamus and Brendan exchanged glances. Brendan shook his head slightly but his cousin ignored it.

"Yeah maybe, depends on what you'll give us for it." No sooner had he said that then the man grabbed the front of his shirt and practically lifted him off the ground.

"Look mudfoot, I don't have time for your little games! If you can help me, do so or else I'll pound you and your little buddy into the dirt you sprang from." He dropped Seamus and glared at both of them. Seamus and Brendan glared right back.

"What're you looking for?" Brendan asked in an icy tone. The man gave a thin smile.

"That's more like it. I need to know where they keep their weapons." Seamus stared at him incredulously.

"Well, they have more than one you know." The man reached to his side where a gun was holstered and Seamus quickly continued, "I mean, I know they have a storage bunker right near the dock here, I bet they've got tons of weapons."

Actually, he knew they had tons of weapons, because he and Brendan had made several deliveries there.

"Do you know anybody who can get me inside?" The man continued, a slight frown on his face. Again Seamus and Brendan exchanged glances.

"I can get you in." Seamus said at last. "And I can show you where the weapons are." The man grinned, but there was no trace of friendliness in it.

"How nice of you to volunteer."

"I'm not volunteering." Seamus said through gritted teeth.

"I'll help you in exchange for a favor. I want off of Earth. You gotta take me away from here, and I'll do whatever I can to help you." Beside him Seamus heard Brendan inhale sharply, but said nothing. The man seemed to study Seamus, and finally he grinned once more, holding out a hand.

"Sure, whatever ya want. My name's Bobby Jensen kid." Seamus, thanks to Renella, recognized the gesture, and went to shake his hand.

"Seamus Zelazny Harper-" The last syllable was said in a yelp as Bobby gripped his hand hard enough to break his bones.

"Just remember mudfoot, you betray me or lie to me and I'll kill you. Slowly."

"Let him go." Brendan said in a low voice, taking a small step forward. Bobby released Seamus, who was shaking his hand in pain, and pushed away Brendan as easily as though he were a fly. Brendan fell heavily to the ground.

"Like I said rats, you agree to help me, you better not go back on your word."

"You too." Seamus said, eyes narrowed in anger. Bobby only laughed; the sound sent chills down Seamus' back.

"You help me get what I want and I'll make sure you get off this godforsaken place, you can be sure about that kid." and he walked back the way he had come.

Brendan had little to say about Seamus' intent to leave, other than to admit that he hadn't thought his cousin had been serious those four years ago after his parents had died. There wasn't much to say; Brendan claimed that Earth was the only home he knew, and t hat he hadn't given up on it yet. Seamus had shrugged.

"Ever change your mind, tell me, and I'll do whatever I can."

"I know." Brendan had said with a smile. Seamus had visited Renella then, the day before he was supposed to help Bobby Jensen and his partner, whom Seamus hadn't met yet.

He told her he was leaving Earth, and probably would never come back. Renella watched him calmly as he spoke.

"I'll miss you Seamus." She finally said. Her hands were clasped in front of her.

"I'll miss you too Renella...and I still love you." He added in a rush. Then the words poured from him before he could stop them. "Please come with me! Brendan won't come and I'm scared Renella! I don't want to go by myself! Come with me, you don't even have to marry me if you don't want to! You can still spread Wayism and help people!-"

"Hush." Renella placed a finger on Seamus' moving lips. Then she leaned forward to kiss him softly.

"You are an amazing person Seamus. One of the greatest people I have ever met in my life. And one of the bravest." Seamus laughed at that, but Renella looked serious. "Don't ever doubt yourself Seamus. I believe in you. You are never alone, remember? The Divine is always with you, as is Its love. -And," She added in a whisper, "I shall always be with you; my love, for what it's worth, shall also always be with you."

They shared one last embrace and then parted.

Seamus had only one last goodbye. Or rather; two. First he visited the beach where he and Brendan had scattered Caitlin's ashes. He spent an hour remembering his cousin as well as the promise he had once made to take her with him when he left Earth. Finally, he went back to a place he had not been to in four years.

His parent's grave.

There was no marker, but he knew where they had been buried. He would never, for as long as he lived, forget. He was quiet for a long time. He tried to pray, but didn't know how. Finally, hands in his pockets, he glanced up at the sky.

"Maybe Renella's right...maybe this isn't really a goodbye." Not sure how to put what he meant into words, Seamus turned away and took his first steps towards his new life.

But he never forgot.

"He said I left my home where the dead

never rose

For the streets of gold I've yet to find

And at the end of the day all you can do is pray

Without hope, well you might as well be blind..."

-Ancient Earth Lyrics (Flogging Molly)

A/N:

Sorry it's so long! But I hope it wasn't too boring. And that's the COMPLETE end to Earth's Children. I hope I didn't break any Wayist laws with Renella...I don't remember ever seeing a female convert. And it's likely that Seamus was never exposed to the religion until he met Rev Bem, but since I was going to have him fall in love with a girl, I figured I might as well try something different. (At least, I think it was a little different.)

Ok, thanks for reading folks, I'd appreciate it if you let me know what you thought of the epilogue (cause I'm really curious!) but I understand if you don't....

-Luna Sealeaf


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